


Kira

by MaladaptiveNinjaReturns



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Smut, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2019-12-06 20:25:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 72,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaladaptiveNinjaReturns/pseuds/MaladaptiveNinjaReturns
Summary: The reader tries to find her identity in the new place, work and this mysterious man that is Loki Odinson that has an expanding empire under his name.





	1. The End

Everything moves in slow motion.  
The water coming down the silver faucet. The gasp escaping your lungs. The whimper being born in the heart of your heated throat. The water dripping down your nose into the spotless white sink. Your hands running across your face mixing the tears with the tap water over your skin.  
Everything moves at a snail’s pace.  
Everything except your heartbeat and your shallow breaths.  
_One_ , you start counting, trying to trick your brain into taking in one long gulp of air while your moist eyes close themselves for the fear of losing your balance.  
_Two_. Your trembling hands grab the edges of the ceramic sink to ground you.  
_Three_. You bend your knees and get close to the outer space shade of black tiles beneath your grey block heels.

 _Four_. You start to whisper to yourself.  
_It’s okay. You’re okay. Remember. Just try to remember._  
_Five_. Your eyes open and look at the objects around you to recount them inside your head.  
_Faucet.  
Hand towel.  
Mirror.  
Hand dryer.  
Purse.  
Phone._  
_Six_. You get up and pick the hand towel from the pile neatly stacked beside the sink to pat your face dry, pressuring your shaking fingers hard into the fabric pressing onto your skin.  
_Seven_. You whisper the list you just made out loud to your reflection in the mirror.  
_Eight_. You clench and unclench your hands, repeating the ritual till you can no longer feel the shiver as evidently as before.  
_Nine_. You pick up your brown-rimmed glasses and put them on, adjusting them over the bridge of your nose using the help of your reflection.  
_Ten_. You straighten your back and square up your shoulders, smoothening the rebellious hair strands over your head back till the bun.  
Breathe.  
Tugging your royal blue blouse to get rid of the wrinkles, you swipe off some invisible dust bunnies away from the fabric before picking your grey purse. Your eyes lock for a moment with your reflection’s, creating a minuscule swerve of a latent pain rising somewhere behind those pupils. And just at the speed at which they met, they look away from the mirror to walk towards the door.  
The click of the washroom door alerts your body and you move out into the gallery of this glass building, mingling into the crowd going about their daily lives.  
Everyone who walks by is in suits. Monotones. Nothing lighter than a plain white, nothing darker than an abyss black and nothing more colourful than the stainless steel grey. The walls wear the same shades as the concrete they were made with. The massive beams running to the top at the entrance add a bright hue of white to the structure. The reception desk right by the wall whose corner you came out of is decorated in black.  
You almost feel out of place in your blue before your mind realises that you actually are.  
“Miss Kira?” The receptionist with fiery ombre soft curls running till her shoulder calls out to you as you approach her, “Miss Donatella will see you now.”  
You try to pass her a smile but hurt your muscles in the process. Taking the yellow guest ID you follow the receptionist’s instructions to go the twentieth floor.  
Between the ground level and floor twenty, half a minute of silence is a rare opportunistic gift that your mind takes to breathe away the episode in the washroom before the ding echoes around the elevator covered in mirrors on all sides.  
You step inside the destined floor and just one thought crosses your mind.  
_Why am I still surprised?_  
The walls here are the same as any other part of the building. Concrete. Naked. Dull? And where there aren’t any walls, there is glass frosted to a level desired by someone who wants to keep their private sections of the offices private indeed.  
The absence of any footfall in this part of the building makes the clack of your heels louder than supposed to be. The corridor seems deserted and you really cannot tell if any human is breathing on the other side of that glass. It feels like an eternal walk through a cement maze till you finally spot the glass door marked Conference Hall C and turn the handle.  
A blonde, pale woman- paler than what you’re accustomed to seeing usually- sits behind a grey table huge enough to accommodate a buffet for a family of twelve. She smiles at you and asks you to come in.  
Now that is a surprise. Not the smile. Not the setting. The fact that she is wearing beige in the world of grayscale is what shocks you a little.  
“You must be Kira…” a raspy voice greets you from her raspberry painted lips before turning towards the file to look for the last name.  
“Just Kira, please,” you respond, stopping by the lone chair that stands on your end next to the table in this hall, “and you must be Miss Donatella.”  
She nods and passes just a hint of a smile before requesting you to sit down. The air around her smells of lavenders.  
You don’t like lavenders; not recently. Maybe it’s this premeditated thought that sets a tiny itch in your nose as you sit down.  
Donatella opens a white file with your name on it.  
“So,” she begins as she shifts in her comfortable black swivel chair and you know she’s crossing her legs under that table, “Miss Kira, you have an impressive resume.”  
You try to smile better this time. You are forced to. This woman practically holds the cards to some very important, life-changing events in your life right this moment in this room.  
“I have to say,” Donatella raises her brows in a little grim speculation while eyeing the contents of the file, “it is so impressive that you should not be applying for the post of an assistant.”  
Pressing the pulsation in your lips you take in a lungful. “My academic qualifications are elements of education that I deemed necessary on my way, Miss Donatella if their degree of complexity is your concern. Now, as far as my application for the portfolio of an assistant goes, I’d say my qualifications along with my extracurriculars are actually one good example of me being able to handle multitasking, work decently under pressure and get the results on time.”  
You can see Donatella’s lips curve up a little before she plants her fingers over her lips, trying to cover whatever positive emotion she is feeling while her other hand sifts through the pages scrutinize your life as seen on those pieces of paper.  
“It says here you worked at Rein Industries for six months,” Donatella bends her voice in a question.  
“That was a mandatory internship I did during my college course,” you reply, feeling your ears heat up. You do not realise when you left thumb starts to move along the right wrist, trying to feel the bone beneath your skin.  
“They didn’t present you with an offer?”  
“They did. I had to decline for some personal reasons.”  
“Must be some reason,” Donatella quips, her hand resting on her chin while her mix of grey and honey eyes look right at you, “because you do not have any work experience for an entire year after that. Which…was last year.”  
The movement of your thumb does not stop. The smile plastered on your lips stretches a little as you look down at your hands for a second before meeting her calculating gaze.  
“I, unfortunately, had some health issues last year. Hence, the little gap in my resume. If I had joined any company at that point of time I’m sure you understand how that would have affected not only mine but the company’s performance as well.”  
“Why Sun Corp?”  
Donatella does not even wait for you to breathe out the last word when the question drops on you and you realise your fingers digging into the skin of your palms right on time.  
“It’s hardly been a year and Sun Corp has been expanding throughout the country with its extended subsidiaries. That’s unlike any private corporation I have seen.”  
“And this is what attracted you?” You can almost hear Donatella’s scoff.  
“I wasn’t finished yet, Miss Donatella,” you mention before continuing, not waiting for her brows to retain their composure, “Sun Corp has been working within third world countries just like ours and unlike any other multinational company, which basically want a monopoly with a huge profit margin, it has been working on the grass root level with a comparatively low but evidently stable profit index. And the reason this corporation has been having one successful industrial arm after another is that someone in here knows exactly what the population needs in our country.”  
You pause for a moment to let the air around you ease the heat flurrying through your body. Donatella takes that one moment to glance at her phone, moving it little to make it light up.  
“Now unlike other companies who are content in fulfilling the bare minimum required of their corporate social responsibility and hiring agencies to research on how to market their product to the general public, Sun Corp’s management has been using its resources on actually finding the necessity and working on building the bridges hereafter…with the people who actually are in need of those bridges.”  
The silence that follows is satisfactory for one side and shifty for the other.  
“All you have given me till now is pretty much a really generic reason though I must say you seem to have done some homework, if not all,” Donatella is quick to remark before scribbling something down on your file.  
“Twelve per cent.”  
“Excuse me?”  
You inhale before repeating the figure.  
“Twelve per cent. That was the increase in the yield of crops when my family took up Sun Farms’ aid. I’m sure it does not seem like much to someone who doesn’t have a background in agriculture but it helped pay for my sibling’s tuition so there’s that. Now, this is the twelve per cent that I know. I haven’t included the percentage of sales that increased by word of mouth publicity after that. And considering how environmentally conscious and cautious my family is about the chemicals going into their crops, I can assure you the word-of-mouth thing was huge.”  
The image of your grandfather going on about the better health of the mustard growing in the vast field brings the first genuine smile on your face today.  
But Donatella, on the other hand, seems unphased. The silver watch on her wrist peeks from inside her cuffs- reflecting the soft golden lights of the room right into your eyes- when she sits up and close to the table, throwing a quick look at her phone. Her elbows barely rest on the table; as if she’s preventing herself from being at ease.  
“And that is the only reason you are here. Out of a sense of-” she raises her hands a little with a light shrug- “gratitude. Is that so?”  
“I am here because this company seems to have farsightedness, Miss Donatella. Not regarding what it needs to do to stay in the game but regarding what the people would want now and in the near future. And I feel that it forces you to believe in some kind of a direct or indirect moral compass that comes with the corporation’s work,” you are quick to answer.  
Donatella’s chuckle is like the one that comes out of actors portraying the Victorian era aristocracy to show the restraint the women would be put through even when having fun. Why it reminds you of those actors is something you find both amusing and confusing in that instant.  
“Moral compass.” Donatella’s mutter is more for herself than for you, spewing the words out in mockery. “I have to say, sweetheart,” she shakes her head while her brows try to imitate an emotion of sympathy, “this was good. Really good. The first such answer I have heard but, really? Are you sure?”  
Now you are really confused.  
“I beg your pardon ma'am?” You try not let the pricks of the fear show over your face, your thumb digging into your wrist for some reason unknown to your consciousness.  
Donatella intwines her fingers together as her honey and grey fixate on you.  
“How many interviews do you think I’ve taken for this position? Hm? Ten thousand applications came in for just this post. The post of being the assistant to the company’s founder. Out of those ten thousand, two hundred people were shortlisted for the interview. And even in those two hundred candidates was barely a person who actually wanted to apply for the post.”  
You feel the space between your brows get heavier with every passing second. “If they didn’t want the post then why did they apply?”  
“For the same reason you did, young lady. They all want to get close to the man himself,” she declares before muttering, “Cheapskates.”  
“Excuse me?”  
You can almost see her roll her eyes at you.  
“Oh don’t give me that look,” she huffs tiringly with a wave of her hand, “a pretty girl like you giving up all of this hard work of so many degrees just so you can satiate your desire to meet him. Some of you even have the audacity to think of getting into his pants. Take my advice and get out of here. Girls like you have a better chance of stalking him on the internet than getting to even kiss the floor Mr Odinson walks on.”  
The next few seconds are filled with the ticking of the watch on Donatella’s wrist. The ringing in your ears is mind-numbing for the first ten seconds before it transforms into something else.  
An ember of rage lights up somewhere inside you, heating up a spot right in the centre of your chest. Your thumb rubs the back of your palm through the silence before coming to an abrupt stop with the one long breath you take in.  
“I am flattered Miss Donatella, that you think I’m pretty,” you begin, with just a hint of a smile this time, “And also surprised, because you are being so straightforward with…what you think about me.”  
You abruptly push your chair forward to keep your arms on the table, openly offending Donatella, who gasps at your guts to do so.  
“But it does make me wonder that almost all one hundred and ninety-nine people might actually be having evidence to get you fired before you leave this company, ma'am.”  
Donatella blinks, faster than she’d supposed to, as her one leg that had so comfortably been resting on the other goes down.  
“Ex-”  
“You should be more wary of…people who want to get into his pants, that’s what you said, right? Be wary of such people discreetly taking pictures of your boss while you make deals with his rivals behind his back, Donatella. Because I can assure that these people have a drive more intense than the number of zeros you were offered on your paychecks to leave Sun Corp.”  
The stoic and cold demeanour she had been maintaining till now starts to crumble bit by bit.  
“Don’t make accusations you cannot prove, Kira,” she nearly hisses.  
“Don’t make judgments you cannot justify, Donatella,” you softly throw the words her way. “And I’m not making this up, something which was just proved from your facial expressions. The entire Instagram has proof of your meeting with some private military corp that’s been trying to find a way to enter the country through some other businesses.”  
The fear in Donatella’s distant gaze is hard to miss. But you barely feel any empathy for her. Picking up your purse from the floor you begin to get up but pause.  
“Oh and one more thing, Donatella DeMorgeaux Bellasario-” you tap your finger on the smooth steel table surface- “your boss hates it when anyone addresses him as Odinson. At least his assistant should be aware of that,” you enunciate before getting up, looking at that lingering rage in your reflection in the mirror covering the wall next to you before going for the door you entered from.  
“How do you know all this? What are you, some kind of a-”  
“No, I’m not a spy Donatella,” you spew at her from the door, irritation brewing up over your features, never looking back at the woman, “just like you said, I did my homework.”  
“Bitch,” you mutter under your breath before exiting the room.  
Donatella sits there, her hands covering the creeping disbelief over her face.  
Behind the mirror, you had caught your reflection in, a pair of emerald eyes glisten in the filtered light entering the darkness they are engulfed in. Having seen the entire thing unfold in front of them, they turn towards a camera resting in a corner of the dark space near the ceiling, a smirk glimmering through those green eyes showered in the soft foreign golden light.  
  
“Be careful, Balder,” the man in the black suit warns the blonde guy with a soft face, “you so much as put a scratch on anything in this house, I’ll make you pay it from your pocket.”  
The blonde looks at the man in command. Balder cannot help but feel both scared and excited to look at him, his dark skin reflecting the blue sky outside with such flawlessness. As if that wasn’t enough, the weight in the British voice is enough to make any manly man weak in his knees.  
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,” Balder apologises softly before carefully planting the miniature camera behind the book stack, his pale nimble fingers working carefully with the rosewood he had drilled to make way for the device.  
The man in the suit walks around the tiny studio apartment space, taking in the citrus smell of a body spray that was used in this space this morning. The bedroom is a five-step walk from the main door that opens into the living room-cum-open kitchen-cum-study. A violet coloured quilt lies on the bed in a mess, half-covering a Bulbasaur plushie. His long gloved fingers trace the edge of the headboard to collect the dust over the latex for examination.  
“José,” he speaks without looking away from the dust bunnies over his fingertips, “put one on the headboard too.”  
“Yes sir,” comes another voice as a tall dusky man dressed in a cleaner’s uniform walks into the bedroom space.  
The huge, calculated steps walk back into the living room, hands resting inside his pant pockets.  
“All the cameras and listening devices are in position, sir,” the olive-skinned woman sitting on the carpeted floor with a laptop in her hand declares as she types away some codes on her screen, “we’re going live in three, two, one.”  
A press of a button later, the screen floods with Balder and José’s faces- adjusting the cameras- along with the man’s back to the one device planted above the apartment door.  
“Good work, Torra,” the man announces, “now route that feed to my account and remove the access from yours and anyone else’s. Make it a level seven clearance feed.”  
“Ooh! They must someone really important we’re spying on. Yes, sir,” woman quips happily before typing in a serial number and pressing enter, allowing the screen to show the rerouting before going blank. “Mission accomplished.”  
Within the next five minutes, the apartment sees the two men and woman trickle out of its space as if they were never there. The man in the suit takes one last look around before he eyes land on the nine figures resting on the side table near the door. The nine protagonists of One Piece sit there facing the kitchen opposite to where they stand. The man looks at them all in some deep thought, his honey eyes lingering for some time on one figure before moving over to the next, before he takes one hand out of his pocket and moves the figure of the woman with long black hair to face his direction. Content with his work, he walks out of the apartment, allowing the silence before his arrival to take back its place as gracefully as he had.  
  
The walk back to your place is heavy and slow. The noise from the passing subway train behind you does not help the piercing pain going in and out of your throbbing head. Picking up a sandwich and fresh juice from the local deli you stop by the twenty-four seven store to grab a bottle of Jägermeister. It is only when you’ve reached the front of your building do you take an effort to conceal the liquor bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag inside your purse. The walls might only have ears, but the old women living around your place had heightened senses when it came to young single people living in their vicinity.  
Your building’s elevator feels like a good change from the mirrored one you had been trapped in on your way in and out of the building today. The chime is welcomed too as you step out on your floor, your keys ready to open the door and lock yourself in your comfort zone. Your neighbour- a young man a year or two older than you- tries to wave your way and before he can even blurt out your name, you have bolted the door and thrown the keys into their designated bowl on the side table. Keeping your purse down on the carpet gently, you take in one long breath.  
“Breathe,” you whisper to yourself. “Just breathe. Forget everything else. Right now, just breathe. Please.”  
Your eyes take in the familiar soft space. The kitchen, The Tempest lying on the two-person dining table, your quilt still the same mess you had left in the morning. The oil painting of a sunflower hanging on the wall you are leaning over, your One Piece figures sitting right next to you on the table. Luffy, Brook, Zoro, Franky, Nami, Chopper, Sanji and Robin.  
A blank minute passes as you stand there, frozen in time, looking at the figures in a confused daze. And then something dawns on you.  
Your hand, with a life of its own, moves to turn Robin towards the direction she usually faces before coming back to your side.  
A cold prickle passes through your spine as your eyes go about the familiar space with a scrutinizing gaze shrouding the fear behind those eyes.  
Someone was here, your mind sets off all the alarms in one go. And this time, when it actually seems appropriate to feel the panic erode you, you stand there breathing normally. No shivers. No sweats.  
The vibration and loud chime of your phone makes you jump where you stand eventually. Your fingers take out the device from your pant pockets to click it open.  
Another chime comes.  
A message from your bank stating the recent deposit that had been made into your account.  
Another message congratulating you on getting the position of Assistant to the founder and head of Sun Corp, requesting you to join the post tomorrow.  
  
Donatella clicks her phone close and places a grey file on an oakwood desk before walking out of the lavish office space and into a room with a fire pit separating the space into a lounge area and a living room with its length. The clack of her pencil heels stops as her eyes catch the figure standing by the glass wall that opens to the view of the city beneath and mountains beyond them.  
“I have narrowed down some candidates to come as my replacement,” she speaks in the direction of the figure, never bothering to close the distance between them, “but I still need to go through another batch tomorrow.”  
The figure stands there. Still. Like an old tree.  
Donatella can feel a tiny chill rise up somewhere inside her, which she tried to suppress as she shifts her eyes away, her hands coming together in front of her while her shoulders move a little to shake away a lingering stiffness.  
“Burn them.”  
A soft voice- like a warm brandy laced with honey going down your throat, heating it up in ways unknown- commands the room.  
“I’m sorry?” Donatella fears her ears didn’t catch that right.  
The figure’s shoulders finally shift a little but the pale arms exposed through folded up black sleeves do not move away, the hands resting inside the pant pockets.  
“I said burn them,” the voice says again.  
“Why?”  
“Because none of those letters spells out Kira.”  
An arrow seems to have pierced Donatella’s chest as her eyes go wide before her entire body tries to find its composure.  
The fact that the figure doesn’t move still amplifies the fear crawling over her skin.  
“I-I think-”  
“Pack your things and never show your face within a hundred meters of my empire. You’re fired.”  
The voice never rises. Not once. The delicate smoothness lingers throughout the words even when the threat is delivered.  
Donatella brings her rage over features, about to spit some words into the ice-like air surrounding her.  
“Before you say something you’ll regret I suggest you look at the table in front of you, Donatella.”  
And she does. All the heavy rage folded in her wrinkles disappearing within a flash, replaced by nothing but mortal fear as the photographs on table show her meeting with an unknown man before displaying her in a compromising position in high-resolution grayscale.  
“Mr Odinson, I-”  
The head turns a little in her direction, making her cracked voice stop at once. Even with a distance of at least twenty feet between them, she can see the green embers burn from where they stand. And before she knows it, her lungs are trying to find air to breathe.  
“I’m sorry Mr Loki, sir,” are her last words before she hurriedly walks out of the space that has been chilled to the core by that one traumatising side glare.  
  
_It’s done._  
The man in the black suit closes his phone and walks across the length of the dark room that has nothing in the name of lights except for the endless skylight revealing the infinite stars above him and the twelve screens lit up on the wall he is walking towards.  
Grabbing the top of the swivel chair, he sits down before pulling up two screens on the monitors in front of him. His hand goes in the pocket of his jacket to take out two marbles with hues of orange, golden, fiery red and black trapped in them, seemingly similar to a pair of golden eyes. And like a ritual known to his hands, he starts moving them around in his fingers while his eyes are fixated on the two figures on those separate screens, considerably apart, sitting inside the space of their homes, eyeing the alcohol bottles sitting next to them.  
One of them shifts their gaze away to look at the phone in their hand before closing it and moving out of the camera’s view.  
A chime comes on this side.  
The man takes out his phone to see the message displayed on the screen.  
_Thank you, Heimdall._  
He looks back at the screen and clicks a key on the keyboard to reveal Loki’s figure laying down on the bed.  
The other screen shows you under your quilt, your back halfway down the bed and halfway supported by the soft headboard, looking at the Jager bottle resting by your bedside before you turn off the lights and take off your glasses, throwing them in the little space between the empty pillow next to your head and the headboard.  
Heimdall watches neither of the figures closes their eyes, just lying in there on their beds in the dead of the night, waiting for some distant memory to either kill them with dried out tear ducts or tire them enough to put them to sleep.


	2. On Second Thought

“Pretty dull, isn’t it?”  
You turn away from the wall you have been gazing at for the last twenty minutes, finding amusing patterns in the concrete.  
The heavy British accent is the first thing your ears notice before taking in the tall curvey figure with skin as dark as the first shot of black coffee in the morning you had that one particular day and never remembered how what and when it ended. The hazel eyes with glitters of green scattered in them smile at you with kindness, making you confess that this was as close you had come to finding someone smiling at you without any selfish motivations in this ruthless city.  
“Not dull as much as…displaying the insides in plain sight, if that makes any sense,” you respond with a slight smile of your own.  
“Because the insides are vulnerable.” The statement sounds more like a question from the Goddess who stands before you in her black dress held by a golden belt. Is that metal? You can’t tell but the spotless reflection from its surface feels metallic.  
“Yes. I believe so,” you acknowledge with a slight nod, holding the string of your purse a bit too tightly.

“I’m Solaris,” the woman introduces herself, bringing forward her hand.  
“I’m Kira, ma'am,” you respond with a firm handshake.  
“Welcome to Sun Corp, Kira. I will be showing you the ropes today, talking you through your role and making sure you are ready to fill in some really big shoes.”  
You cannot help but notice kindness gleaming through Solaris’ flawless skin, the golden lights of the building- you had left yesterday with no intention of returning- reflecting softly over her skin. Her dreadlocks go all the way down to her waist, neatly bundled together at the top with a golden steel band.  
_This woman really is a goddess, isn’t she?_  
You walk behind her to wherever she is taking you.  
“W-where’s Miss Donatella?”  
“Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart.”  
And suddenly yesterday’s memories flood through the dams of your brain, bringing back the anxious flutter in your heartbeat.  
_She got fired._  
“Um…did I-”  
“She had it coming for some time, darling. Do not worry your little head about that. Come, let’s get you started.”  
And just like that, the day goes by in showing you the order of how things are done. So does the next. You knew assisting one of the most influential people in your country would be hard work but this was worse. Seven subsidiaries, eleven companies under the umbrella, twenty-five startups (not to mention, influential) financed by the corporation. Thirteen foreign offices- the majority of them in metro cities of developing regions of the world. Everything goes to the man through you.  
From his meetings, events, important dates to the suit he wears and fruit he eats that day- everything is managed by you.  
There are moments in the first two days when you feel your heart give out, your veins throbbing in places you feel they never existed in before. But having Solaris by your side eases things up as she is patient enough to walk you through each and everything while teaching you something new every day.  
“Remember, Kira,” she says as you are handed the first set of projects that need your boss’ approval, “it may seem like you are just making things easy for him by selecting a tie for him for, say, an event, but that is not all. You are to become his right hand. Be well-versed with what he does, when he does and why he does it. You need to be aware of whom he likes to do business with. And the key to finding out whom you’re going in business with is always thorough research. Things as big as the man standing on the opposite side of this table is a renowned shady dealer in the black market to as small as him having a mistress can bring down civilisations.”  
_Good_ , you think to yourself, _at least I have some experience with that._  
The first week you get used to early arrival inside the concrete walls, a warm greeting from every member of the staff on your face and a few hushed whispers of questions about you behind your back.  
The entire twentieth floor is yours. Solaris assigns two officials to decrease the leg work for you as much as possible. “You are an assistant to the man who runs an ever-expanding empire. Of course, you need assistants of your own to manage things that are your priority but not your boss’,” she iterates.  
Nina is a fair redhead with a petite figure that can put any model to shame. She walks with the dignity of a priestess who wants to impress the Gods she worships with not only her mind but also body. But against that slender physique is a bubble face with a glow and enthusiasm of a little child. On papers, she has a master’s in economics with two successful research papers to her name.  
Zair is a Philipino student with a graduate degree in history and work experience as an assistant to various renowned personalities around the world. One look at him and you can tell why those ‘personalities’ preferred to have this young man by their side.  
You have no idea how Sun Corp finds such perfectly shaped human beings- both intellectually as well as bodily- to work for them while your self-confidence makes you feel like a lost potato in between these two assistants being provided to you. You are curious to know why they want to work as assistants despite having such glorious résumés that put yours to shame. But looking back at your own life choices, you refrain from asking the same.  
The days go by organising the meetups and events for your boss, intimating the staff that would be needed to make preparations of his arrival and departure, getting in touch with really specific people at Sun Corp needed for really specific jobs. You barely get time to even catch a glimpse of the person you are working for except for when you go to the floor above you to place invitations to a few charity galas he has been invited. And that glimpse too is only of his raven hair as he walks into the elevator you had just come out from to walk over to his office.  
Your work ends late. Often you, Nina and Zair are the last of the crowd that leave the office because according to most people, your boss never sleeps so neither does his assistant. But you don’t seem to complain. In fact, it seems like a perfect distraction- even a viable excuse- to keep your meandering thoughts form eroding the mountains that have just started to fold up. Tired as you are when you reach home, sleep is one reluctant mistress that comes and goes when it likes and never when you are in the want or need of it, forcing you to wake up with a throbbing head and start your day all over again.  
Weekends are off; something you welcome with relief on Friday night at first but just as it turns Saturday and you are watching the sunrise from the window of your bedroom, the thought of working seven days a week doesn’t sound that bad. And so, cooped up in your little apartment, lying in your bed, you wait for the week to start again.  
Today seems a little different. Four men dressed in a grey suit with black creaseless shirts greet you in a monotone as you board the elevator.  
“Miss Kira,” the copper-haired man with an Irish touch to his accent addresses you, bringing forward his hand, “I’m Robert. The chief of Mr Loki’s local security detail.”  
“Nice to meet you, sir,” you acknowledge the introduction with a handshake.  
“Please, ma'am. Robert is fine,” he presses with a straight face before he and his men give you almost the entire space to stand comfortably while they take the corners without even so much as a bat of an eye.  
Robert’s dense beard is carefully trimmed to perfection and you can tell by the way he cleans up that this man certainly plans everything he does to perfection.  
“Is everything all right, Robert?” You finally ask.  
Oh well, you are the assistant. If there is any security risk, you might as well have some idea about it.  
“Yes, ma'am. We were asked to shift sir’s necessary official documents to his residence ten minutes ago.”  
“By whom?”  
“By sir himself, ma'am. We would be needing a list from you as well. Everything important needs to be moved to his house by noon, ma'am.”  
That is news to you. What could’ve happened to force the boss to take everything home when you stop your train of thought right there.

 _He is the boss. No reasons required._  
“I will prep everything for transfer and let Zair communicate with you about the same. Is that okay?”  
Robert nods. “That’s perfect, ma'am. Thank you.”  
And just as you get off on your floor, you find Nina waiting for you with a to-go coffee cup from Starbucks and a stretched smile.  
“'Morning, ma'am.”  
“Nina. Please. I told you yesterday.”  
“Right,” she corrects herself, shaking her head and presenting you the coffee cup, “sorry. Morning, Kira. What’re we taking care of today?”  
“I don’t drink coffee,” you state, watching her reluctantly retrieve the coffee cup in her hold, “Robert’s been given orders to move the boss’ office materials home. Any hard copies relevant to the next three months that are not on our servers-”  
“I’ll make a list. And arrange them for transfer,” she is quick to catch up.  
Zair greets you by your office door, opening it for you before handing you four grey files.  
“Morning Kira. These contracts just came in. They need the boss’ approval. Quick signatures and the investments will go through.”  
“Did you check them?” You ask- less out of caution and more out of habit.  
“Nope. Didn’t need to. Sir asked for them personally. Called your desk just five minutes ago.”  
You exhale before taking your seat behind your table.  
“They’re not going up before we’ve done a thorough check. Call VK from legal and tell him to clear an hour from his schedule for this.”  
And the next three hours get busy.  
VK, short for Vikramaditya and a mouthful for nearly everyone working there, arrives within five minutes after the call is made.  
By this point, it doesn’t surprise you that the man too is nothing short of the perfect physical form beautifully wrapped in an expensive suit. What does surprise you is the fact that he made the effort to come by instead asking for the files right at his desk.  
“So, you are Kira.” a heavy voice greets you with a smirk outlined by a black beard. “The new assistant.”  
“Yes, I am.” You try to pass a smile but decide against it before asking him to have a seat by the sofa before you busy yourself at your desk in the room too huge for you. As if the space it covers is not enough- which is nearly as huge as your apartment- the glass walls covering the two side of the rectangular room open it to the view of the city.  
_What even is the point to look down at it when all it caters to is the greed to rise up faster and leave behind any humanity you have learned, in the process._  
VK is fast with his work. Comprehensive as well. He is already on the third file when he is calling up his floor to print the same contracts with a few changes here and there.  
“I’ve tweaked the parts where Sun Corp was to take any damages in case things go south. You’ll have the fresh copies in half an hour,” he assures you as he walks to your desk to hand over the original files.  
You cannot help notice the heavy cologne he’s wearing; way too musky for your taste. So musky that it scratches your nose and you let out a sneeze with an apology.  
“Anything else I can do for you, Kira?”  
VK’s soft pink-ish brown lips are stretched to a point that brings your heart to feel a bad flutter.  
“No, thank you. That would be all.”  
You try to hide the surging heat of caution in your ears by bringing your hand up to adjust your glasses before walking out to know the status of the task given to Nina.  
There is a second when you assume VK thinking the worst about you- how he might think you just gave him a cold shoulder- but the pressure to have everything in order for the one in power outweigh every other worry.  
Nina manages to ready everything in time for Robert and his men to put in the SUVs travelling to the estate. And before you know it, Robert is escorting you out of the office to get you safely to the vehicle while Nina and Zair follow behind in the former’s well-maintained hatchback.  
“Is he already…”  
“Yes, ma'am. I accompanied sir to his estate. It’s a half an hour drive from here if we avoid traffic.”  
You hear yourself chuckle and can see Robert pass a kind smile to you through the rearview mirror.  
“Yeah, good luck with that, Robbie boy,” you mutter, knowing he heard you but playing like it never went till his ears.  
Flawlessly gravelled roads looked down by the glass buildings blocking the hazy sunlight, it is the perfect persona of this city. Every type of crowd mingles on the edges that you pass but only the lucky ones sitting inside their vehicles are away from the fast crowd that looks at nothing but their destination as they walk by.  
Twenty minutes into the drive and you can finally see less of the concrete jungle and more of the greens lining the sides of the road. Fields on either side welcome you as the winter grains sway about in their space, waving at you, letting you know they’re ready for harvest. Sturdy fences keep the cattle and horses within boundaries on the sides. You can tell by the way the fence sits if the owner is a person trying to make a living on that field or just living there because he can afford to. _Things as simple as the quality of wood standing guard at the boundary can tell you about the person, really._  
The more the time passes, the greener the road grows till the point where the sun has to fight with the thick shade overhead to reach you, making little specks of fire dance over your skin as you reach the massive iron gate of The Hidden Gram- Loki Odinson’s estate.  
The name is quite apt for only a few know about this place. Tabloids, newspaper articles, business and architecture magazines all have spoken about this place at least once in their life- the famous hidden gem of the Odinson family that is not even visible over Google maps thanks to the thick green cover and cleverly done architecture of that place that makes it hard for trespassers to set foot inside the guarded grounds.  
The pathway from gates leads further inside with nothing but Oakwood and old Willows standing as guards besides the perfectly maintained shrubbery. A few meters into the driveway is when you notice the entrance to the house of one of the most powerful people in your country.  
It is nothing like you thought it would be. No modern glass building. No contemporary wooden or polished iron architecture. On the contrary, it has more of a local touch. The Mediterranean theme of the place brings back blurry memories from a place you feel you visited as a kid. The nostalgia is just at the edge of the sea of those memories but it never seems to resurface.  
The soft brown to beige hues are calming against the ornate dark wood that decorates the doors and windows. The insides are just as simple, though with just a hint of lavish. You guess that the l-word does come with the family somehow.  
The walls carry paintings- works you’ve never seen before- mirrors and intricate hangings whose origins you cannot seem to put a finger on. The air carries a touch of an unknown scent, something you’re not accustomed to. So engrossed are you in taking in your surroundings that it takes both Robert and Nina’s voices calling out your name to bring you back as the former takes you further into the house to show you where your office is.  
The back of the house is where the studies are. Yes, studies, you speak to yourself as you look at the three doors standing beside the open living room cum lounge separated by a fireplace the kind you have never seen before.  
Beyond that elegant space is a view unwrapped from the greens that protect this place.  
The view forces you to hold your breath for a reason other than to slow down your usually anxious heart. The city lies below you, looking like a child’s plaything from where you stand. It is one brilliant scene of the fragile concrete that you dislike so much.  
“Makes it all feel rather small, isn’t it?”  
A strange voice, surprisingly both hot and cold to your senses all at once, seeps into your skin and you can do nothing but turn to see whom it belongs to. And when you do, there is a cold pinch inside your heart that burns out with the icicle that is dragging itself over your skin at that very moment.  
“Controllable. Within grasp.” It seems like you are correcting him but the words just seem to be flowing out of nowhere in particular.  
A corner of the lips stretches and something inside you rings bells to warn the entire village of an approaching calamity.  
“Indeed.”  
“But it all depends on perspective, really,” you add with the notion of not letting your words being dunked into and taken out of paints of negativity for display.  
“It sure does. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Kira.”  
You smile.  
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr Loki. Sir.”  
  
“Solaris tells me you have been learning with quite the vigour.”  
“I’ve just been trying to be thorough with understanding what my job requires, sir.”  
Loki’s long fingers wrap around the door handle and turn it while his green eyes are scrutinising you. Without breaking the eye contact, he opens the door and gestures you to step inside your new workspace.  
Just as you pass him, you breathe in a completely unfamiliar scent. No cologne that your brain has stored away, no flower that your nose has smelled as a happy kid, no perfume you have seen men around you wear; this new aroma is similar to none. It’s quite amusing as you find yourself inhaling it more. _What is this man wearing?_  
But the mysterious haze is knocked out as the door clicks close behind you and you realise you are standing right in the middle of a study that has no windows, just books on either wall standing over the rosewood shelves with soft yellow lights illuminating them from above. On the wall in front of you is a roll of tapestry handing tall, bearing an insignia you are not familiar with. A Sun painted in yellow, looking quite dusty, to begin with.  
“How are you finding your work?”  
When was the last time your nerves pricked the ends on your skin to raise your hair strands and question this unfamiliar feeling?  
“I’m just starting,” you keep your purse on the seat in front of you, never moving behind the desk, “I have a lot to learn. The work is keeping me busy in a good way if that’s what you’d like to know.”  
Turning around you watch him leaning on the door. The black jacket over his white shirt seems a decent fit but the latter looks a bit oversized considering the strings of folds around his arms.  
“And what do you think about your boss?”  
You can hear a loud periodic tick of a clock from somewhere in the room. Too loud for the nerves running down your temple.  
“Haven’t worked with them yet.”  
You think you see a smirk play lightly with the pale colour of those lips but shove that thought under the carpet.  
“But you seem to take decisions for them nonetheless without so much as a warning.”  
There is a crinkle between your brows. The tick of the clock seems to distance itself as your heartbeat tries to increase its tempo.  
“I don’t understand what you are implying.”  
Two steps are all it takes for Loki to cover the distance between the two of you. The goosebumps that had subsided come up again.  
“You don’t?” His voice echoes like a song wrapped up in an iceberg that you just cannot steer away from no matter how hard you try and as if that isn’t sufficient, you feel Loki take a step closer to you, his jacket evidently brushing over your blouse.  
You feel the edge of the table behind you; your hands going for the glass surface to find some room between the cold barrier at the back and fierce green eyes out for your skin in the front.  
“Is this about the contracts you asked for this morning?” You try your best but your voice reverberates under the pressure Loki’s presence is creating inside and around you. “I had to make sure they were in the company’s best int-”

Without so much as a warning, you feel his body lean over you when he moves his arms on your either side to rest his hands on the table that is doing all the work of holding you upright.  
“Now, listen to me, you mewling quim,” he whispers right into your ear, making you question every decision you made that brought you here, “what I say is etched in stone in this company. What I tell people beneath me to do is done without asking unnecessary questions and whatever I want is served on a silver platter, alive if I am feeling generous. So, you so much as look with a doubtful eye in the direction of my orders you will see something much worse than any of your nightmares. Trust my rage.”  
You hear something crack but do not have the nerve to look at the source of the sound, frozen there as you feel his breath so close to your skin one moment, and watch his blurred figure leave the space through your fogged glasses the next.  
The moment the door clicks shut you walk behind the desk and let go of the force that is holding your body together. The breaths go shallow while your shaking hands try to grab the edge of the table to ground them somehow. Closing your eyes you lower your head and order yourself to breathe.  
The tears build up to the brim, ready to fall out till you hear the handle to your private space twist.  
Years of practice of putting the mask on has perfected your performance as a fully functioning human. The same happens when the familiar bubbly face enters in.  
“Nina.”  
“Everything has been brought and arranged as you said, Kira. Is there anything else you’d like me and Zair to do before we go back to the office?”  
Lips closed shut, you try to breathe as much as you can through your heated nostrils.  
“You two are going back to the office?”  
“Yes. Miss Solaris says it’s better if you have someone there to help you keep in touch with what all is going on without having to visit the premises.”  
You feel your fingers tap the glass before noticing that one of your palms is incredibly sweaty. At least that is what you think is the cause of the stickiness you are feeling under your skin until you shoot a quick look at the glass stained red under your palm.  
“Thank you, Nina. That’ll be all. I’ll call you if I need anything else,” you assure her with a smile so weak you wonder for a moment what even is the point of it all now.  
The moment she walks out, you grab the tissue box and swipe away the colour from the table until it is not visible at all. A cut goes right through the heart and lifelines on your palm, marking the already broken rugged jungle even more.  
Wrapping it up in your handkerchief, you realise a change in the air around you. The room is no longer tilting. The breaths are normal. The tears have vanished. The heartbeat is its usual anxious self. The shaking fingers have decreased to the level of being visible only under direct scrutiny.  
Loki’s words echo through you as you sit there in the large space staring at the walls of your possible future. The fingers dig into the palm as his voice resonates inside your ear with his unwantingly close presence etched inside your brain.  
And just as you exhale every ounce of the past twenty minutes, an unnamed force gushes through you, making you get up, walk towards the door, open it and go straight to the door standing opposite yours. With one quick turn, you open the handle and step inside.  
You do not even look at blank expression Loki throws your way from one of the four files he is going through- which grabs his full attention as he drops everything in hands on the glass and comes forward to lean on his table with his hands resting in his pant pockets.  
It doesn’t take him much to observe the cloth wrapped around your right hand before his eyes come to gaze at yours.  
Taking one impulsive breath, you turn around and close the door before locking it.  
  
Solaris is walking out of the office building with her purse and a kind smile on her face for the guard that hands her a package.  
“Leaving already?”  
She turns towards the source of the voice and chortles.  
“And I thought I could get past you just this once,” she chimes before hugging the towering figure.  
“It’s good to see you, Heimdall.”  
Heimdall’s brown eyes smile for the woman before cupping her cheek in his palm. “It’s wonderful to see you, Solaris. Come,” he mentions as he points to the car waiting right in front of them, “she’s waiting for you.”  
Solaris steps inside the vehicle and takes the seat beside a figure not visible to the people outside walking in and out of the premises.  
“Solaris,” a soothing voice like a river just leaving it’s glacial womb echoes inside the car.  
“I never thought you would come here. How did you manage to do that without offending him?”  
A kind smile creeps on lips painted a flawless shade of mauve.  
“I don’t need an excuse to see how my son is doing.”  
Solaris smiles before passing an assuring nod.  
“How is he?”  
“He is doing really well for himself. Always the survivalist. You would be proud of him if you saw the things he is doing, Frigga.”  
“I don’t need proof to be proud of him. He is my son. He always has been.”  
The car door to the front opens and Heimdall sits on the driver’s seat.  
“I just pray he finds a friend in someone. Someone he couldn’t find in his family.”  
A glimmer in Solaris’ eyes catches Frigga’s attention and she cannot help but ask the reason behind it.  
“I don’t know about friends but the new assistant he hired, Kira- she is one of the most gentle souls I have seen in a long while. She is a wonderful girl, Frigga. Sometimes I’m happy that she might be able to rub off right on Loki and sometimes I’m worried she might be marred with the darkness he often carries on his sleeves. She doesn’t deserve to be in this world and yet I cannot see anyone else do the work she has been doing.”  
Frigga narrows her eyes at her oldest friend and her most powerful counsel.  
“Heimdall,” she asks.  
“Gentle or not, I’d say the girl is either quite brave or really stupid,” he adds, turning on the ignition.  
“What do you mean?” Frigga is quick to interrogate; the light in her eyes losing an ounce of its shade.  
“She confronted Loki about his decision making,” he continues as he turns the car to get out of the building, “saying she wasn’t going anywhere, at least for not the next six months according to her contract so your son might as well tell her the ins and outs of how works things around him to keep the affairs simple for both of them. I’ve never seen anyone take the ball from your son’s hand to point it right at his head.”  
And Heimdall looks in the rearview mirror to catch Frigga looking at some invisible void with a tender smile playing over her lips.  
“What did you say her name was?”  
“Kira.”  
“Kira.” she plays with the name inside her mind as the vehicle leaves behind the building of Sun Corp to blend with the crowd of this fast-paced urban jungle.  
“I’d like to meet her someday.”


	3. Betray Me Like You Loved Me

Music.  
That one meaningful void of escape.  
The corner in this vicious circle of stones around you- be it the sidewalk or the hearts that walk over it.  
The lone sun warming up whatever is left of your soul in the city that hasn’t seen a clear sky for the last seven years.  
Music is the one thing that gets you through the day. It allows you to ignore the piercing words of people walking by, knocking their shoulders with yours, unapologetically. It lets you tune out the woman sitting on the stairs of the station that begs for money in the morning and is lying in that far off corner with needles in her arm by night. Music helps drown the gaze of men and women you see in the tube mentally ripping off your clothes as you try to become invisible in the crowd around you. Music forces you, for those twenty minutes in the day to breathe in what you like without any regrets.  
Music allows you to feel emotions in a pool restricted to your earphones inside your head.  
Music is the one drug that is maintaining the balance of your footsteps on the ledge you stand on. Too less, you’ll fall; too much, you’ll fail. So, it is no wonder that it pains you to press pause on the music and take out your earphones as soon as you reach your workplace.  
Well, at least that’s what you had been doing last week.  
This time, though, when you step out of the station, a familiar face- paler than the rest- passes you a slight wave, forcing your surprised steps towards him.

“Robert?” You try to confirm the identity of the chief of Loki’s security detail.  
“Ma'am,” is all he says before moving slightly towards the SUV behind him and opening the door to the backseat.  
You look at the leather seats and the familiar smell of class oozing out of the vehicle before turning your eyes towards the man patiently waiting for you to step inside.“  
"You didn’t have to come. I could’ve taken a cab,” you try to assure the man not letting go of the door.  
“Just doing my job ma'am,” Robert answers, “I was asked to escort you to the estate in our private vehicle.”  
_Right.  
Keeping the location as secret as possible?_  
With a huff you step inside and sit down in the back before Robert closes the door behind you and walks to the opposite side, undoing the button on his jacket before planting himself in the driver’s seat and making his way towards the familiar destination you had left yesterday with mixed emotions.  
“You’re the chief of security, Robert,” you state while going through your purse to find something you’re not really sure of, “I’m sure someone under you could be assigned to pick me up from the station.”  
“You’re the assistant to the boss ma'am,” he iterates before turning on the engine and smoothly pulling the car out of the parking in one swerve, “I am the one responsible for your safety and conveyance as long as the boss doesn’t direct me to do otherwise.”  
The boss.  
Suddenly the roads are a blur and all that is running inside your mind is that one impulsive move you pulled yesterday.  
  
_“I’m being paid to make your job easier for you which, as far as I understand, includes knowing the ins and outs of people you’re doing business with and the contracts you’re signing.”  
All Loki had done was cut a look at you, never moving from where he stood and his casual demeanour had done nothing if raise the flames of embarrassment inside your blood coursing through every little vessel.  
“Mr Loki,” you had been quick to get in your word before those green eyes could  further crawl inside your skin, “with all due to respect, I do not give a rat’s ass if you’re doing the shadiest deals out there or have some sort of covert transactions under your sleeve that should not be in the books. All I care about is doing my job right.”  
The silence escaping his eyes had already begun to vaporise the adrenaline rushing inside you and so you took one last quick leap before all of it vanished.  
“You have already made me sign the NDA,” you announced, your voice tired as it was, “do you want me to sign a blood pact? Take a chance, sir.”  
“Is this the reason you left your previous employer? Because they wouldn’t let you have your way with things there?”  
The only echo in the room had been the wall clock ticks perfectly in sync with your heartbeat inside your ears. The cold sweat and tremble in your teeth had come back and you had known you needed to ground yourself before the heat fogged up your glasses and shallow breaths could not let you breathe anymore.  
“Robert told me it’ll take some time to arrange my office space for the convenience of working from here from now on,” you had spoken quietly, “ "I’m heading back to the office. I’ll come back tomorrow…if you still need me, that is. Have a nice day, sir, if you can still allow yourself one.”_  
  
Your fingers move on their own to wipe off some invisible grime of yesterday’s memories from your cheeks as you see the Hidden Gram’s gates come into view.  
_At least it’s not the city_ , you try to convince yourself as Robert is quick to hold the door for you when you get out.  
“You really don’t have to do that,” you pass him an empathetic look.  
“You mean my job?” He asks with a quirk of his brow before passing you a playful smile- a kind one- and you cannot help but mimic that.  
At least someone seems to tolerate my presence. I wish Solaris was here.  
  
The office space and the lounge in between are silent, making you feel like Loki controls even the tiniest stir in his surroundings. The clack of your block heels feels louder than it’s supposed to, knowing full well it will alert the devil even if he is brooding in the deepest pits of hell.  
“I’ll get the key to your office. Please wait here, ma'am,” Robert requests before starting to walk away towards a hallway opposite to where you’d entered from.  
“Oh! Uhh…Robert,” you stop him in his tracks.  
“Yes, ma'am?”  
“Can I make a small request?”  
“Sure, ma'am.”  
“Please stop addressing me as ma'am. Kira would be fine, really.”  
Robert passes that familiar smile your way.  
“As you say…Kira,” he announces for you before going his way.  
Left alone in the uncharted grounds of the man who had tried to physically intimidate you yesterday, your body stands there gazing towards the city- or what has been made of it- while your mind runs through fifty scenarios of how things could go today within the next thirty seconds. Just when it feels like you’re in the worst nightmare, your preservation reflexes try to bring you back to reality by focusing on the smells, colours and sounds around you. It helps for a minute or two till your brain fixates on the something in the room that reminds you of him and the screeching record starts all over again.  
That is until you feel a presence of someone else besides you in that stillness.  
At first, it’s a very faint gust of warmth over your left palm. Like that one fuzzy second of heat that presses out from the centre towards the fingers. But considering there is nothing too embarrassing or life-threatening happening to you right now, you blame it on your mind for playing tricks on you.  
An instant later, it is the brush of something soft by your pants- almost overlooked if not for that spark of intuition that comes up once in a blue moon- and you look down towards the black fabric that goes wide as it runs down your legs.  
And then you see it.  
Big golden eyes staring at you right as they come to stand in front, the fit muscles flexing under the softest and the darkest hair you have seen as one foot goes ahead of the next. It’s a slow dance, the movement, of curious eyes ready to pounce on one wrong move. The hot breath can be felt right over your thigh as the nostrils flare to breathe in your scent.  
A wolf as majestic as the abyss gazing back at you stands in front of you with eyes scraping right through your skin to read your soul.  
The moment you realise what you’re staring it, you slowly drop your purse on the sofa next to you and get down on your knees, reverting your gaze to the beast’s huge paws, your palm open and left hanging lower than his head, allowing him to smell you before coming any closer.  
You can hear the dead silence ringing through your ears as your hair strands move when it tries to sniff you and huff out a gust of air filled with the canine smell- not stinky as much as it’s familiar in a way.  
“Hi,” you whisper, still not ready to look it in the eye.  
Your eyes see the paws take a step back and even though the rational part of you should be happy to not be caught dead with the wolf at your throat, your heart sinks a little.  
_Can’t even make friends with wolves._  
Warm wetness your hand feels tells you otherwise.  
Looking up, you watch carefully as your fingers graze the side of its face, gently rub its ear before finally scratching the neck.  
“Who’s a good boy?” You whisper and watch a bushy tail go slightly up.  
“Fenrir!” The familiar voice declares its presence in the room, forcing both you and the dog to stand attentive and on your feet.  
Loki is standing there on the other end, his hands in his pant pockets- as usual- looking at the two of you with a scrutinising gaze.  
_What is it with him and his hands?_  
“Get out.”  
You feel justified to be confused whether the words are meant for you or for the wolf and are about to step away and walk out with your heart thumping right inside your ears when you see Robert come out of the hallway with a badge and a woman holding a tablet.  
Fenrir huffs at Loki before turning to look at you with- somewhat surprising according to you- pleasing eyes.  
Giving him a gentle pat on his head, you mouth him to go and he does, annoying the hell out of the raven-haired man standing in front of you who makes a mental note to talk to his pet today.  
“Here’s your badge, ma- Kira. Put your hand over the tablet so we can insert your prints into the database for ease of access across the estate and other Sun Corp owned properties,” Robert states as he presents a black badge- with nothing written on it, just the symbol of Sun Corp encrusted in gold- before holding up the tablet for you to allow it to scan your hand.  
On a whim, you turn into Loki’s direction and look what those emerald eyes want you to do. When he simply walks away towards his office space, you take the liberty of judging that as a positive reaction and go ahead with all the formalities.  
“I officially welcome you to the Sun Corp family,” Robert is quick to whisper and wink before he is on his way to secure your boss in his own ways.  
  
Nothing misses Loki’s smaragdines. The hand on which your handkerchief was wrapped yesterday now carries a bandage that blends all too well with your complexion. Your eyes carry layers upon layers of which the man is quite cautious.  
_Layers carry secrets._  
He doesn’t like secrets. At least not the ones that are kept from him.  
This is quite possibly the only reason he dislikes you meandering your way into his business, which, by definition, is your responsibility too. But for him, it is more of keeping open his ledger which seeps with nothing but red inside it.  
Donatella was transparent compared to you. Her temptations were shallow, her desires quite clichéd and her ambitions really impractical. Loki always knew she would leave at the first chance of a better paycheck. He had an entire backup plan ready for the same since she had stepped foot in his office. That woman may have been quite the climber but she never hindered with things Loki put his hands on.  
You, on the other hand, had walked right into his private space, shut the door and locked it till you were sure he heard you loud and clear.  
Your words had been practical but Loki’s insides had laughed at your innocence of being a part of his world, sharing the knowledge that you could not handle even if you tried, even though you were clear that you didn’t care what deals were made around the dark corners of the business that ironically was named after pure light.  
He knew he couldn’t be wrong in choosing you for the position. Your history and the behavioural analysis had put you down as the perfect candidate that he wanted- pure submissive, giving in to fate just as easily as the small stream going down a mountain, humbly passing by the boulders and rocks that were too powerful for that little one, settling and staling at crevices hurdles that could only be passed when you were filled to the brim and needed an outlet. You were nothing but a pure flow that had often questioned where she was going, tried to go against the waters that you would find yourself in at the edge of a river and try to go against it only to fail and be pushed forward. He knew enough about you to know that you could be easily pulled and pushed as he desired, leaving little to no room for questioning the ripples and splash he created around you.  
But you were proving to be quite the headache on your first encounter. Tweaking the contracts that were not Loki’s concern, and involving the legal department in it. Loki knew that from your perspective it was a mere precaution in the name of the company but if that meant losing connections with the people he was closing pacts with, you were better off somewhere else soon.  
At least that is what he thought yesterday. Today, the sky reflects a different shade. With a usual sleepless night and calculative thoughts later he decides it won’t do him any good if you were gone. In fact, your loyalty and cautious nature is something to be exploited to its full. You are the tool that would get him further and the next one year of your life is already decided at three in the morning by a very satisfied man looking at the city lights frat his lips at the thought of letting you think you are an important piece in this game.  
  
“You have an appointment with an N. Andrews today at eleven about closing a deal on his land. If you leave in fifteen, twenty minutes you can make it in time for the meeting.”  
Even though you do strut into his office space with a layer of confidence flawlessly wrapping the shudder in your voice and tremble in your lips, you nearly force the gift wrap down as you walk right into the chairs kept in front of his table.  
_Great_ , you think to yourself, _now the clumsy part of me decides to make an entrance._  
“Perfect, let’s go,” he announces before getting up from his chair and picking up his suit jacket and raising it to you. It takes a delayed instant for you to take it in your hands and spread the shoulders for him to put it on. The familiar aroma from yesterday fills it your nostrils- Loki’s aroma- and you have to make an effort to gulp down the daze starting to settle over you.  
“You want me to come with you?” you want to make sure you heard it right as you smoothen the surface of the blue that covers him admirably.  
His runs his hands through his hair, allowing you to notice them for the first time. Well kept, long, pale fingers are in stark contrast to the Ravens they are smoothening. Without so much as a warning, your mind wanders to a desolate corner of a prohibited but sacred temple and peeks inside the well of the wildest imaginations to see what those fingers could do tangled inside y/h/c hair strands.  
“You wanted to know ins and outs of people I do business with, did you not?”  
His voice brings you out of the restricted grounds with a thud inside your head- cussing at your own audacity to even think about such a thing about this heartless man- and you cannot help but follow him out of the room, thinking if you’d get to see Fenrir again.  
  
“Andrews owns almost one-third of the land in this village. Therefore, he also owns one-third of the resources and votes in the community.”  
Robert swerves the SUV towards the village road from the highway and you can already see the fields being looked over by the mountains- hues of green playing with each other over every single thing in your line of sight.  
“This man hunts for pleasure,” you blurt out as your eyes go back to the web pages you had been pulling out on him. “He bought the lands from families who were having low yield from their harvests for three consecutive years and now he pays them to work on those very lands. And he has a tiger skin rug in his living room for display. I hope he knows cruelty towards endangered animals is banned in this country.”  
You know you are pretty much blabbering but Loki’s close presence right next to you in the vehicles has you a little on edge. Even though he sits with a calm wave washed over his features, his comfort tickles you the wrong way.  
“I am going there to close a deal on our equipment for his entire estate.”  
The words seem like a warning coming from him.  
_Do not screw this for me_ , is what you think he means.  
“Yes, sir,” you reply quietly before reverting your gaze to the scenery outside.  
“Good girl,” he acknowledges, sending a questionable ripple down your spine.  
The next few minutes go in the serene silence of the swaying harvest glowing and radiating in batches as clouds pass by overhead. Small bland houses mark the road till there is nothing left but a passageway to a lone house that stands elevated from the rest on a mound of flawlessly green grass carpet.  
Andrews is a sharp looking man in his late forties. His eyes are quick to give you a once over as soon as you step on his property. Loki does not miss that either. The courtesy that is extended to you because of the company you follow is far from the taste you are normally used to but you go ahead with it, amusing your already entertained boss. Robert follows the two of you at a considerable distance, his eyes sweeping the grounds for anything out of the ordinary.  
Despite the over-the-top welcome, you are not offered a seat, the man making it clear that the discussions were going to be a men-only affair. So you go ahead to explore the open space on your own, with an alert Robert following you.  
“Are you sure your boss will be safe without you next to him?” you want to sound concerned but it never comes out that way, forcing a little smirk out of the man.  
“Between the two of you, I would say you are the one who needs detail,” he is quick to follow, his eyes doing a sweep again as you walk down a stony path towards a man and his son standing by one part of a field cut out.  
“It’s okay, you can say I need to be watched,” you respond and do not wait for his reply.  
  
“Quite the harvest you have.”  
“Wonderful bounty this year,” Andrews acknowledges Loki’s gaze. “Best fertilisers, experienced hands, and a good eye for the best seed. Would you like a drink, Odinson?”  
“No, thank you.”  
“Don’t drink while doing business?” Andrews forces out a laugh.  
“Alcohol just does not seem to have the desired effect on me. So, why waste a good peg.”  
Andrews raises his brows in positive surprise before pouring himself a whiskey and snapping at his servant on call to get the papers, which appear sooner than the man who disappeared to fetch them.  
“I still don’t get why my workers had to sign the contracts, though Nidur assured me it’s all good.”  
“Just a precaution, Mr Andrews,” Loki states as he watches the pen in his hand pause before touching the paper, “making sure that the people who work under you are liable for any…”  
“Mishaps?” A questionable grin slithers over the man’s face, something even Loki finds uncomfortable but veils it faultlessly as soon as the ink stains the pages in unreadable curves and cuts.  
An abrupt burst of laughter erupts through the air, making Loki’s head turn in the direction of the sound.  
His eyes come to rest on the figure standing down the hill, mouth agape as positive squeals leave the lungs and closed eyes experiencing some absurd joy with a mastiff trying to lick the red face while it’s rusty paws rest on those shoulders.  
Your figure.  
He is caught; entrapped in the swirl of the breeze that brushes your hair away from your face, revealing a tinge of ray that wasn’t there yesterday or the day before. Even as his mind tries to, he cannot move his eyes away from your face. The satiated bliss on your features reflects even as you tell the canine to stop trying to lick your face whole. Even the animal seems to be smiling back at you.  
Not only the animal as it turns out, as Loki’s eyes take in the rare smirk over Robert’s face- who stands at a distance, attentive and ready to step in, just in case.  
“So…that girl,” Andrews’ voice cuts through the tide of the warmth of the spring sun Loki was feeling, “is she like-”  
“No one that concerns you.” Loki does not even bother to look in his direction.  
Andrews is smart to raise his hands as a white flag and shut up, emptying his glass in one gulp.  
  
Robert is a professional, keeping his distance with the people he works for. Everything is formal. All the interactions. His job requires minimum conversations, an alert mind and quick decision making. In the seven years, he has worked for Loki, he has never seen someone so out of place as you. Apart from Loki himself, of course. While his boss is more of a man that feels out of time, driven by some goal that is only visible to him, you seem to be more of a gentle soul that stepped into ice-cold waters, not sure what was swirling beneath the surface.  
He observes the lungful of breath you take as soon as you enter the room where Loki is present. He knows how Loki just detaches himself from everything as soon as you walk through the door. He has seen you suppress textbook panic attacks just the previous day. He has also noticed the careful attention Loki seems to give your every move whenever you are not looking. It is not hard to notice these things, especially when they are more than the usual normal he has been seeing all these years.  
Even now as he drives the two of you back, he can sense the weight of the silence behind him. Your lips are still carrying the tender smile as they are looking out towards the passing trees while the three am sun is playing a visual bop over your skin. He has to adjust his gaze in the rearview mirror a little to see Loki observing you from the corner of his eyes whenever he gets the chance, his eyes taking in the scratches left on your exposed arms, by the friendly beast, that don’t seem to bother you.  
Once at the estate, he escorts you and Loki inside before taking his position in the security room with other personnel under him, watching you and Loki back to your respective works in the opposite rooms till you call it a day and gather your stuff. Before you have even stepped out of the lounge, Robert is ready to escort you out and drive you wherever you want to go, even though he knows your destination is him; even though he knows you would never let him take you beyond the nearest station.  
“Be safe, Kira,” he speaks softly as you get out of the car, your earphones already untangled in your hands, ready to be put to use.  
“You too,” you speak before walking away. He stands there till he sees you disappear at the end of the stairs.  
Back at the estate, he checks all the doors and windows, doing one final sweep of the place before he walks inside Loki’s office.  
“It’s late, sir.”  
Loki looks up from the file he has been studying.  
“Where’s Kira?”  
“She went home an hour ago, sir.”  
Loki exhales before planting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his thumbs while covering his lips with his mirrored fists.  
“Good,” he finally speculates, more for himself than for Robert, “call Tez.”  
There is a pause in Roberts movements before he takes out his cellphone, long presses a digit and puts the call on speaker.  
One ring and the line is connected.  
“Tez,” a husky voice from the other side greets the room.  
“It’s me,” Loki softly announces.  
“What can I do for you, sir?” the voice is quick to address.  
“N. Andrews. The estate that he owns?”  
“On it, sir.”  
Robert stands there, his hands resting over each other in front of him, showing no emotion whatsoever.  
Loki takes his hands away from his face and sits back in his chair.  
“Burn the harvest. You know how the rest goes.”  
“I do, sir.”  
The line goes dead.


	4. Count My Doubts Like Breaths

The iridescent blue of the digital clock reminds Heimdall of the time he had first seen the strings tangle in front of him. He is still holding the two golden-eyed marbles like he did that day, his hands playing with the cold glass on a rhythm known only to those long, dark, experienced fingers.  
There is a flinch in the regular breaths on the screen initially. A microscopic jerk. The fingers curl around the black sheet covering the bare body before turning into fists, crumpling up the fabric beyond recognition at one point. One long inhale and unmistakable flutter of breath and eyelids. Heimdall watches the movements with a shade of worry wrapped quite sophisticatedly in observation -so sophisticatedly that he can fool his own self into thinking he did not care for the one he was looking upon- as if watching some dark ritual unfold in front of him.

In a way it is. In many ways, it feels worse.  
The sweat beads become distinct, glistening against the moonlight that enters through the glass doors and lazily roams about the room, touching everything it can get its hands on.   
There is a moment- a cautious one at that- where he even sees the veins give way through the skin, waiting to burst out as suppressed moans turn to feral grunts and the silence takes place of a repeated incoherent mumble.  
Even if he wants to, Heimdall has never been able to retrieve his gaze from the inevitable that happens every time.  
The shallow breaths and low but ominous moans slowly turn to delirious cries of someone wanting the tortuous voices to stop. But the man watching it all reasons with himself that it is not his place; it never was. And so, the infamous man that is Loki Odinson continues to drown in the pool of sweat being created by his own gory dreams till he wakes up with a horrible yelp escaping his throat, bringing back the silence as and when his lungs allow him.  
Heimdall’s features do not even flicker where he sits. But on the inside, he genuinely wonders the cause behind such horrid nights that are punishment enough for the man already paying for his deeds.  
  
The smooth squeak of the turn of the shower handle has now created a Pavlov effect on Loki’s mind because he knows what waits for his heated head as soon as the cold metal turns to his liking.  
The raw water with the perfect pressure hits his head, creating a rough waterfall where the white foam ends and his black ravens begin, sticking down on the nape of his neck, slithering with the flow down them onto his shoulders, creating pathways for the water to follow down his back, which already has it’s own story to tell as the freezing liquid snakes through the multiple unnatural tiny peaks and valleys of the skin that run along the otherwise smooth pale surface.  
Flashes come back in front of his eyes. Loki’s hands rest against the wall, balancing his upper body’s weight upon them as he tries to stabilise the incoherent cries swimming up to the surface from a long lost memory.  
The flashes are in pieces; pieces with sharp edges trying to find their way through the flesh of his overworked brain.  
Blood.  
Chains.  
Soul-wretching screams.  
A muddied chunk of crystal falling down on a hard surface with a clatter before engulfing everything around it in its light.  
The flashes repeat themselves.  
And then they do it again.  
And again.  
The shoulders rise and fall with surfaced breaths. The water pressure taints the face to drown out the sooty images. The spread palms ball up into fists against the cinnamon tiles, the knuckles bruised red with a rough press to the hard surface.   
Everything seems to accelerate, too fast for the senses to catch up till a low crunch is heard, the shower is shut and the shower temple is left with a cracked tile.  
  
You don’t read newspapers.  
The everyday tragedies printed in bold over front pages forcing people to swallow the death and destruction is not something you like to start or end your day with.  
In fact, had it not been your job to do thorough research on the people Loki was in business with- or going to be- you would never keep yourself updated to what was going on around the world. Ever.  
Ignorance is indeed bliss sometimes.  
Today, the woman sitting by stairs of the station isn’t begging but selling a bundle of a local newspaper and as usual, you try to walk by without giving much thought to watch she would do with the money she makes.  
But something stops you.  
Turning back you take a step towards the bundle lying by her soiled feet.  
A photograph covers one-fourth of the front page with a name and a face that is way too familiar to be ignored. But that isn’t as relevant to you till the headline dances in front of your eyes.  
The time you take to go inside the station, wait for the tube, sit down in it, is a blur.  
A part of you wants to laugh. A part of you wants to scream a little.  
But whatever ounce of concentrated sanity you feel inside your blood forces you to dial a number on the phone.  
“Hi, it’s me, Kira,” you breathe the shivers out through your lips, “is it okay if we meet today?”  
  
“Breakfast, Master Loki,” Ygritte calls from outside the room.  
Loki removes a piece of lint from his black shirt before flattening the most invisible creases and walking out of his room.  
As soon as he steps out the door, the air smells different. The faint touch of lavender and citrus in the air apart from the usual aroma of freshly baked bread- toasted and buttered- and served with sunny-side-up eggs and bacon tells him you are early to work today.  
Must have read the news, his inside voice smirks from a hollow abyss, nearly chuckling with bliss.  
Closing his bedroom door behind him, he struts through the hallway that opens up into the living room. He can already see your back towards him, sitting on the sofa, hair in a high bun today over a brown blouse that complements the tone of your skin quite well.  
With every step he takes towards you, his heart beats with anticipation to what reaction you would give him, readying his mind to capture the moment for his to cherish on a minuscule level.  
“You’re early,” he announces his presence behind you.  
He watches you straighten and move away from the laptop kept on the coffee table to get up and turn towards him.  
“We have quite a busy month ahead. Wouldn’t want to lag behind with the preparation.”  
You don’t smile. You don’t even blink. He knows you’re lying right to his face about your reasons for being here. Had he not been good at the part himself, he would genuinely believe your words to be true.  
What else have you lied about, pupper? He wonders on the inside.  
Loki watches you sit down and go back to whatever it is you are working on, your expression null, your eyes fixated, your glasses adjusted as and when needed.  
“What all are we busy with this month?”  
Loki watches you take in one heavy breath as your hands fold one over the other. He notices that one ring that is always adorning your right finger (on the wrong hand). The gem- which he knows is a cheap mimicry of a precious stone- is a tinge of yellow trying its best to reflect golden at the cuts that mark it. The worn out silver band having zero lustre tells him you have a really old relationship with this piece of useless stone.   
“You,” you stretch the word a little, “have a charity gala to attend to along with new tech expo happening with Stark Industries this month. It’s a five-day affair. Lots of influential names from around the globe, heavy press, world leaders making a visit, deals to go down.”  
Loki’s brows furrow at the mention of Stark.  
“Stark invited me.” He almost sounds sceptical to your ears. Your fingers lift the pile of files lying beside your laptop to show Loki the invite.  
“The invitations went out a month ago, I’d say you were a last minute addition,” you quip quite smoothly, making Loki smirk on the outside.   
“I’m surprised he even thought about me,” Loki mutters as he looks at the expensive invitation paper inscribed with golden calligraphy.  
“I guess everyone has an agenda in the corporate world for even breathing near someone else,” you smoothly spew into the air, making his brilliant green eyes turn towards you, and watch a sliver of a smile creep over your lips.  
“I see you got the invitation too.” A voice Loki is too familiar with, calls out from behind him with a soft clack of heels. That’s when Loki realises the reason for a hint of a careful positive on your features.  
“Solaris,” he greets the woman clad in a royal blue dress complimenting her curves the best way possible.  
Even you are in awe of the way she walks towards you. Silver heels glistening with every step she takes, you still are not used to the kind smile she spreads your way.  
“Hi, Solaris,” you greet the woman with a bit more stretch in your lips and Loki watches the change in your posture on the woman’s arrival.  
“How are you doing, Kira?” Solaris takes the liberty to give you a hug, which surprises not only you but Loki but neither of you says anything. On the contrary, the gesture fills you up with warmth inside your chest that you haven’t felt in a long while.  
“I’m…doing fine,” you assure, nodding your head and licking your lips before stepping back and busying your fingers to adjust your glasses.  
Solaris turns to Loki, one side of her flawless dark forest skin reflecting the green hues of the grass and trees swaying in the languid breeze outside.  
“I hope you have been taking care of her, Loki. Because of not, I’d be happy to take her away with me.”  
Loki’s sly smirk grows over his lips. “Quite a subjective question, Solaris. I believe Kira will be able to tell you more than I ever can.”  
“Miss Solaris, Miss Kira,” Ygritte calls out with a smile as she comes from the direction of the dining room at the far corner of the house, “would you be joining Master Loki for breakfast?”  
You look at the redhead dressed in white, her already pale skin looking paler in the combination of the sunlight and the clothing. She is shorter than you even if you are not wearing any heels and has a sweet smile stuck over her pink lips as she stops just a few steps back, her hefty figure coming to a standstill from walking nimbly.  
Solaris rejects the invitation before turning to you.  
“Oh, no. I’m good. Thank you, ma'am,” you state, watching the redhead’s eyes widen a smidge before crinkling with a smile.  
“Please, miss, call me Ygritte.”  
You pause, trying to let your delayed brain function take in her words before nodding in assurance in her direction.  
  
“Everything okay, dear?”  
The door clicks shut behind you, you and Solaris being the only one in your office.  
A calculated inhale later, you walk to your desk to pick today’s newspaper and show it to her.  
Solaris reads the headline, going through the article before his crinkled brows rise up to look at you.  
“Yes, this happened last night. Andrews’ estate went up in flames. What’s the concern, Kira?”  
You really want to stop yourself but the scoff escapes your lungs.  
The tick of the clock in your office echoes through the morbid silence with the only touch of serene in this hollow space being Solaris’ perfume.  
It takes an effort for you to walk and sit down on the couch.  
“Solaris,” you begin, the tremble in your voice quite evident to the woman who makes an effort to come to sit by your side, “why exactly am I here?”  
Solaris’ blink is filled with doubt as she tilts her head in question.  
“You are the assistant to-”  
“To the one man who might as well be the most powerful person in this country in terms of his intellect, yes, I have heard that before. A hundred times.”  
Solaris takes in a breath to speak while keeping her slender hand over your shoulder.  
“I know about the cameras in my house, Solaris. I know about my ID tracking my every movement. I know how closely your employees-well, I can’t speak for others, but I sure as hell am being scrutinised,” you manage to speak through the shiver in your throat that you just want to burn away, “so please, do not insult my sanity. Or whatever is left of it, that, at least I’m pretty sure you are aware of considering the textbooks steps you’ve been taking around me to keep as much of my anxiety at bay as possible.”  
The silence comes back again as the last of your words break and are left into the air for your audience to weight in her heart.  
There is a faint sound of scratching on the closed door before the handle turns and in walk the silent paws of the wolf of the house.  
Fenrir sniffs his way to you and makes sure to take in a whiff of every part of you before settling down by your legs, his warm furry body resting right above your boots, which he rightfully does not care about once he knows he is in contact with you some way.  
Your right hand moves on its own to rest on his head and you feel him tilt back into your touch with a relieved exhale.  
“I’m not complaining about my boss. Neither am I asking you to rescue me if that’s what you’re worried about. I just want you to know that right now I am on whatever side Loki points me in, which means it will come with a thorough scrutiny of my own. For the sake of the company that I work for. Nothing else.”  
You scratch Fenrir under his ear, forcing another exhale out of him as he closes his eyes.  
“And if I ever have to be the bait,” you conclude, “I’d like to be made aware of it beforehand.”  
  
“It’s eight, Solaris.”  
Loki watches the woman step into his office as he takes the aide of a sunless sky outside his window to gesture at the lateness.  
“I was going through Kira’s progress. She’s quite patient and thorough, I have to say. Really saved your hair in the Andrews case by involving the legal team.”  
Loki carefully closes the folder he’d been going through before sitting back in his chair. His fingers rest over his lips in some calculated thought as he eyes Solaris taking a seat in front of her.  
“Too bad she couldn’t save the man, though,” he is a little quick to add.  
A smirk runs over her lips, making Loki wonder how many men and women he has seen fall for this beauty, profess their love, break themselves apart to fit to what the thought would her liking, threatened her with flowers and guns alike and yet she is untethered. Loki knows way too well why that is.  
“She is capable of far more than you give her credit for, Loki,” Solaris settles back, picking up a paperweight in the shape of a glowing blue cube from his table. “Quite perceptive too.”  
“Are trying to warn me about something?” Loki’s words are soft, the smile over his lips even softer.  
“She knows,” Solaris states.  
“I know she knows.”  
Her brows rise up and she shrugs. “Of course, you do. I’d be surprised if you didn’t and that’s not my concern right now. My concern is you unconsciously putting her in the centre of annihilation you’re causing for your ambitions, Loki.”  
Loki gets up and walks towards the glass wall separating his office from the view to the lounge outside.  
“Just because she wants to do her job?”  
Through the intricate drawings done on the glass, he can see your figure sitting in the living room, working on your laptop.  
“She wanted to be a part of my world, Solaris,” he coos into the air around him and he is quite sure of the fact that Solaris is rolling her eyes right behind him.  
“Loki.” Her voice is threatening. “You wanted Donatella gone because she was making deals with the devil’s pawns but you’re practically throwing Kira to the beasts.”  
Loki doesn’t budge where he stands. His languid breaths send a prick of frustration down Solaris’ spine but she brings back her calm; as always.  
“Loki,” she announces delicately, “I’m sure you have something in mind for her. Whatever it is, mark my words, she better not pay for things that are your doing.”  
A sharp inhale and Loki’s head turns a little towards Solaris.  
“We have been working together for enough time for you to counsel my mother, haven’t you? You know my goal better than anyone on this planet. So well, that you left your identity to follow me into the perils. After all that, you worry about that one woman.”  
“I do. Because even if I have changed my name, I am still a spy working as a soldier in this shrouded battle. I do not take unnecessary lives.”  
“Is that so, my pretty warrior? Did your royal ex-boyfriend agree with you on that?”  
Her arms crossing in front of her tells Loki she is done playing the word game for the day.  
“You are more interested in throwing her in your customised playground just because she won’t play by your rules. Trust a woman who has some experience with the same.”  
His lips twist in agreement and he nods.  
“You’re not wrong,” he iterates, “but I will have my fun till I get bored. Though I admire her tenacity even when she’s clearly in no shape to bear the mind games.”  
“Just don’t do something reckless. She’s a gentle heart and I’d rather she stayed that way. Even Fenrir thinks the same.”  
Loki blinks. He doesn’t like the idea of you having formed a bond with his pet so soon. In fact, he was counting on his wolf to play with you more. That fickle beast.  
Supporting his back on the glass wall behind him he looks at the woman right in her sparkling brown eyes.  
“You’ve been with the canines for quite some time,” he mentions in Solaris’ direction, “don’t you miss your cats?”  
Solaris doesn’t shift but her lips do, smirking at the man in front of her, causing him to mirror her.  
“Don’t you miss your home, my lady?”  
Solaris smiles.  
“Don’t you?”  
And there she lands him a low blow, forcing the most pleasurable chuckle out of him.  
“You can take the woman out of Wakanda,” he speaks softly, “but you cannot take Wakanda out of the woman.”  
  
The uncalled vibration of your phone over the coffee table breaks you away from the laptop screen.  
Ma, it says.  
You look at the time and curse out loud.  
It is past ten and you knew exactly why your mother- who did not bother with the time you came and left that much- was calling now, of all the times. Curse those wretched witches living in your building. Why do they even have her number?  
Picking up the phone, you assured your mother you were at your boss’ place working late due to issues that your brain made up on the spot. Worried as she is thinking about you going home in the tube, she goes out of her way to tell you to stay over at your boss’ place.  
You cannot believe the intense rage that rushes through you at the thought of you staying the night over at Loki’s place but a part of you pours ice over the heat and tells her you’ll message her when you reach home. It takes three tries before she finally agrees and you walk out of the house with your stuff, Robert already waiting by the car.  
“A bit late.” He opens the door for you.  
“Yeah, sorry. I completely lost track of time,” you stutter, “don’t worry I’ll be able to catch the late tube.”  
Robert pauses as you get inside.  
“If you don’t mind, Kira, maybe I should drop you home.”  
As good at it sounds, you are too concerned about the prying eyes of your neighbourhood to pay heed to the concern in Robert’s voice.  
“No, that’s okay,” you blurt out trying to calm down your roaring heartbeat, “just take me to the station.”  
Robert doesn’t say anything but he stands by the door for a lingering moment before closing it and moving to the driver’s side.  
The drive to the station is quiet. Some roads inside the city are still a blur of busy while others are quiet as the night above them.  
Robert asks you again to let him drop you home when you reach the station but gives up in front of your adamancy.  
You take your earphones out as you climb the stairs but do not put on the music.  
The tube you board is nearly empty but for a group of young men sitting in the far corner singing crappy songs and having fun in their own world and an old man wrapped up in a jacket even in this weather.  
Feeling the bunch of keys inside your bag in your fingers, you place them near the mouth of the purse. The earphones stay in place but your ears look for any unusual sound around you, mostly from the corner where the young men sit, now gazing in your direction.

The ride back home in the tube seems longer the more silent the car gets. The man in the jacket moves a car further and stands by the door, busying himself in his phone while the men on the opposite end talk in hushed voices before getting up from their seat.  
Every so often you throw a casual glance in every direction, catching a few of those pair of eyes looking in your direction more than often and you feel a grim tingle in your back, recalling Robert’s repeated pleas to take you home.  
The tube slows down to a halt at the station before your stop, the doors hissing open for arrival and departure.  
No one enters.  
The only soul present outside is a pigeon that flaps itself away from the platform to perch over the railings above.  
No one leaves. The hiss announces the closing of doors and you feel yourself breathe a little.  
That’s it. Your stop’s here.  
The group of men have slowly shifted to the car next to you watching something with curious eyes in your direction.  
Avoiding as much eye contact as possible, you keep your ears open, stand up beside the door and count the seconds till your destination arrives.  
“Excuse me,” you hear behind you from the same direction, making your insides flinch just as the doors hiss open again and you nearly run out, never slowing down your pace till you hear them close back again.  
What you do miss, therefore, is those very men running against the direction of the tube inside it, tapping on the glass to get your attention to warn about something- or rather- someone behind you.  
But even with no music running inside your ears, you cannot hear the muted warning disappearing from the view behind you as the tube leaves the station.  
  
“Solaris has a flight out in three hours. Escort her safely to her destination, Robert.”  
Heimdall waves his hand over the sensors radiating a soft golden light that shuts down all the screens lit up in front of him, filling the large room with darkness save for the splatter of stars shining above.  
Grabbing his keys, he walks out of his observatory and out of his place of stay to get into his own SUV and take his car for a ride.  
Tapping a number into the screen in front of him, he puts on a classical piece. The melody from the harp fills the space around him, bringing the tensed muscles in his forehead to a point of relaxation.  
That’s it. That is all he needs for the next three hours to rejuvenate his soul before he can get back to work. Nothing else.  
That’s what he thinks till an itch turns up in his gut. And without so much as a thought, his hand goes into his jacket pocket, taking out his two golden-eye marbles.  
One appears ordinary.  
The other seems to be glowing, a few of a clustered strands inside the glass, illuminating brighter than others.  
His features change within seconds and his other hand is already going over the screen in his car while his foot is off the gas, bringing his vehicle to a halt.  
The crickets nearby get the jump scare of their lives as the SUV screeches without any warnings and takes a one-eighty before revving and burning its tires as it zooms past the deadly silence of the brightly lit city night.  
  
The clack of your boots echoes down the stairs. The woman who was selling newspapers in the morning is sitting in her designated corner again. Her hands are moving in a repeated motion till you figure out she is stroking a cat sitting in her lap.  
The street you turn into barely has a soul walking by.  
 _Weekdays really suck the nightlife out this city._  
The local deli is already closed and you begrudgingly have to walk further to the twenty-four-seven store to grab something to eat. The only sound marking the surroundings is the howl of street dogs fighting for their territory, the crickets going about their business in the night, the occasional open hiss of a cat on seeing something- or someone- it doesn’t like.  
And faint footsteps from behind you.  
A wave of alarm goes down your body as you realise how close they are behind you.  
Your steps freeze.  
So does your breath.  
The sound of footsteps stops too.  
And before you can inhale the rush beginning to burn inside your body, you hear them run towards you and grab you from behind.  
The muffled noise escaping your shut mouth does nothing to stop the heavy hands from dragging you away from the road to a back alley.  
“Tell Loki Mr Andrews sends his regards,” a heavy voice filled with filth whispers in your ear.  
The panic rising inside you forces you to throw a punch down backwards right into his groin, painfully urging the man to loosen his grip on you.  
You try to make a run for it but he is quick to grab your leg and force you down on the ground.  
Turning around, you plant your hands over his shoulders to prevent him from putting all his weight over you. A grunt leaves the man while you notice the familiar jacket from the tube.  
Grounding one shoulder and the opposite hip, you make an effort to slither out of his attempted deadlock over your body, your legs kicking their way out from under him, your boots making an impact on his face.  
The escape is short lived as the man pounces over you.  
In the next moment, he is thrown off like a ragged doll.  
From the tears and fogged up glasses you notice a figure pick the son of a bitch by the collar to push him into the wall without any restraints and land his fist right into his jaw, making it audibly snap in just one blow.  
The man in the jacket groans as his limp body falls to the ground.  
The figure watches him for any movements, poking his unresponsive body by the shoes before turning its gaze in your direction.  
You do not realise when the dams had broken down your heated cheeks when you adjust your glasses and slide back to the wall, not sure what to make of the figure walking towards you.  
From the shadows of the alley, a face comes forward into the light as the figure squats down in front of you.  
“Are you all right?”  
A pair of brown eyes peer at your trembling figure with a heavy voice filled with apparent concern.  
You do not make eye contact for more than two seconds, trying to ground the shivers in your body by finding something to hold on to.  
“I promise I won’t hurt you,” the man says, “I’m-”  
“Heimdall,” you hear yourself cry out softly.  
He pauses for a second before nodding in your direction.  
“You know about me,” he responds with the same softness.  
You nod.  
“Y-you… you’re Loki’s…his father’s-”  
Warmth engulfs you from everywhere, taking you a moment to realise a suit jacket landing over your shoulders to cover you up.  
“Your clothes are a mess,” Heimdall tries to reason, even when he doesn’t have to, “would you like me to take you home?”  
You nod again, making more tears break out as he helps you up.  
You try to strain your neck to look at your attacker but Heimdall is quick to wrap his arm around you to walk towards the car waiting for you both at the end of the alley.  
“He will be taken care of. Don’t worry about it.”  
  
A silent breeze comes in from the open doorway when Loki is halfway through the book he is reading on the discovery of ancient treasures and techniques of lost civilisations.  
A whine and a growl from in front of him snap his attention away from the book towards Fenrir’s almost invisible figure in the night outside if it wasn’t for his glowing eyes.  
“Come back inside,” he smoothly orders his pet.  
A painful howl breaks from the throat of the black beast filling the surroundings with a dismal air.  
“Fenrir,” Loki commands, bringing the gloomy howl to a stop as the beast walks and restlessly settles beside him.  
“What is wrong with you?”  
The vibration of his cellphone takes away Loki’s attention from his wolf to attend to the call.  
“What? My father’s royal keeper is having trouble sleeping?”  
Silence fills his expressions as Loki hears what the other side has to say before cutting the line.  
He looks down at the beast with just one thought to linger in his mind.  
The reticence around his familiar environment seems somewhat hollow for the first time in a very long while. So hollow, that the movement of the pendulum feels like a mockery of the breaths he takes with every passing instant.  
“Looks like I won, Fenrir,” he speaks softly to the little one before settling his hand over his head to give it long gentle strokes.  
“And still it feels like I didn’t.”


	5. Find Me A Way

It’s hard to remember the last time you woke up to the sound of birds. Was it back home that particular day when mom had moved the curtains away from door and windows, allowing the first fresh and crisp sun rays to warm up your eyelids and cheeks, dancing around you telling you to wake up? Was it the day your neighbour’s husky decided to make himself feel at home by jumping over your bed and settling over your back while the sparrows outside chirped loudly at his audacity?  
Or was it the day you knew you had to leave home and move here for an uncertain amount of time?

It is hard to remember, even harder to recall what they used to sound like because now all you are surrounded by are soundproof windows still not able to drown the sound of the tube or the merciless fast life right outside, waiting for you to start your day from scratch once again.  
You look down at your arms. Purple, blue and green hues mark the skin now. Underneath the covers, your knees carry wounds from being scraped against the gravel.  
And in all this numb chaos, the sound of the birds is what you seem to miss the most.  
Picking up your phone, unlatching it from the charging port, you dial a number and walk towards the bathroom.  
It doesn’t ring for the usually long time as is the tradition.  
“Y/N?”  
“Hey ma,” your coarse voice tries to greet your mother.  
“You didn’t call me last night.”  
A deep inhale is used as a pause as you open the shower curtain and let the light come in.  
“I knew you’d be asleep by the time I reached home. You can barely stay awake past eleven, ma.”  
Your mother gruntles, trying her best to show you her displeasure.  
“How did you come back? Don’t tell me you used the tube.”  
You turn on the speaker and keep the phone over the glass shelf in front of you.  
“I was dropped home,” you state.  
Technically you were dropped home.  
“So, what’s up?” You manoeuvre around the topic, knowing full well the next five minutes will just be her voice reverberating through your tiny house, filling it with one comfortable familiarity as you try to compose yourself to get ready for the day.  
The bruises around your neck are faint, nothing a little bit of makeup and a jacket couldn’t fix. Turning on the tap, you wet your hands and press them over your face, affirming with a hum as your mother tells you about how much the husky misses you and how the neighbours are already fuming over you finally finding a job. All except two- your mother’s best friends.  
Washing your face, taking a shower and getting ready for breakfast, your mother makes you smile twice when she tells you how the husky shadows her now that you aren’t there.  
“Ghost sent your street cat away, that’s how jealous he is,” your mother announced, making you chuckle as you took out the lone toast from the toaster and lightly spread some butter over it.  
“Ghosty toasty,” you mutter out of nowhere.  
“Yes, he still loves toast. Still eats at least five.”  
You crunch through your toast, gulping it down with some store bought orange juice.  
“Y/N,” your mother sang in a familiar tune that meant some sort of warning was coming.  
“Hmm?”  
“Please sit down and have your breakfast.”  
The munching stops and you huff before dragging your chair out and plopping down.  
“I am sitting down,” you voice but not that strongly.  
“Right,” her voice drips with sarcasm, “and I am enjoying a well deserved twelve hours nap.”  
You silently munch on your toast, hearing your father’s voice in the back telling your brother and sister to wake up and do something productive for the day.  
“Everything okay at work, Y/N?”  
There it is.  
You try to swallow down the lumps in your throat with the orange juice.  
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”  
Silence tries to walk back again in your apartment.  
“I didn’t call in the beginning because I wanted you to settle down, kiddo.”  
You feel the edges of your eyes blur a little, trying to lick away the taste of butter and orange from your lips and breathe in as deep as you can.  
“Call me whenever you want to, okay?”  
You nod and then mentally smack yourself.  
“Okay,” you whisper before clearing your throat, “love you, ma.”  
Weird as it is to speak it for the first time, the emotion doesn’t go unnoticed.  
“Love you too.”  
  
“Hey, Y/N!”  
You click your door shut and turn to see the source of the voice.  
“Hi Sam,” you greet back.  
Sam’s black hair and dusky skin seem to glow in the natural light. Either that or you’ve paid attention to that soft face for the first time in your life.  
“Nice jacket,” the brown-eyes compliment you with a warm smile.  
You look down at your formal blue jacket worn for the sole reason of covering what was unnecessary to show the world.  
“Thanks,” you acknowledge before walking towards the elevator.  
“So, I’m guessing you found a job?”  
He holds the door open for you, maintaining a respectable distance, making sure you step inside before pressing the button to the ground floor.  
“Yup.” You nod, holding on to your purse slinging by your arm by one hand and adjusting your glasses with another.  
“Great! So…will it be weird if I ask you for a treat? Or should I be the one taking you out to celebrate?”  
You look at him and he watches the purest form of confusion hovering over your face.  
“I-I meant like friends hanging out to celebrate. Because it’s a huge thing, y-your job. So…”  
The elevator dings to tell you to step out and so you do, leaving a slightly flushed Sam behind, stopping and turning around.  
“How about this weekend? My treat?” You ask with a shade of seriousness before giving away a slight smile.  
Sam tries to blink away the surprise before breaking into a goofy smile. “Yes! Uh…yeah! That would be great.”  
Both of you walk out of the entrance into the sweltering morning heat with thoughts meandering through your mind in stark contrast to the other. Sam is running his hands through his hair, questioning his luck while you try to figure out how to walk till the tube even in broad daylight without the fear of breaking down.  
“Would you like a lift to your office?”  
The words are from Sam but the movement your eye turn from the stones under your boots to the front of you, you feel a cool breeze touch the back of your neck.  
Robert stands right at the entrance of the apartments, the SUV parked outside the gates, his hands over each other resting in front of him, his blue suit shining sharply under the blinding sunlight.  
Sam watches the direction of your gaze when he isn’t able to get any response from you. It doesn’t take him much time to figure it out when Robert opens the back door and waits patiently for you.  
“Oh, I’m guessing that’s your ride,” Sam wonders out loud, more for himself than for you.  
You nod and wave him goodbye and step towards Robert.  
Sam doesn’t move till he watches you exchange a greeting with the man too beautiful to just be a chauffeur in today’s economy and walks towards his car to go his way.  
  
The car ride is a silent one but the words spoken through the eyes before the start of the journey do not go unnoticed. The traffic is unusually slow today and hence the traffic lights are a congested affair consisting of young faces selling tokens to raise money for some cause.  
Amongst the vibrant coloured handmade lamps, candles and slime, you notice a little boy waving little angels on keychains.  
White, red, blue, purple, pink, green, brown- there are way too many.  
And suddenly…just not enough.  
Your hands open your phone, working with a mind of their own while your brain is trying to keep up with what is happening.  
Once the phone chimes with a confirmation message you breathe in as much as you can.  
“Robert?”  
His eyes dart to yours in the rearview mirror.  
“Yes?”  
“If it’s okay, I would like to take a personal day.”  
“I’m sure I am not the one who can weigh in on your decision, Kira, but I don’t see why you cannot,” he responds, his eyes still on you.  
The lights turn green.  
“Great,” you conclude sitting back, “then could you please drop me at the airport?”  
  
Ygritte sets up the breakfast table for Loki like a ritual etched in her existence. Boiling tea followed by at least three proteins- eggs, bacon and sausages. Despite the fact that he barely eats from the lavish menu she prepares for him, she never minds making the usual extra.  
“Make sure this doesn’t go to waste, Ygritte,” Loki always points out and she always makes sure of it.  
The breakfast is enjoyed by the handful of staff that works on the estate. Sometimes even Fenrir joins them. But no matter how happy she is to get the compliments from her fellow colleagues, she always stands for two minutes in the kitchen with herself to wonder how she could possibly better serve the person she works for.  
But that often turns out to be the least of her worries.  
Ygritte enters his room to clean it up for the day, finding nearly everything in its place except for maybe some dust bunnies.  
The surfaces are wiped clean before she moves to tuck the sheet in from the edges the more professional way than how they have been done. And in doing so she comes across the splintered wood by one side of the bed. Initially on her knees, she plops down on the brown carpet beneath her, her hand going over her mouth. She sits there for a moment, contemplating, before a thought strikes her out of nowhere, forcing her to get up and rush inside the bathroom.  
The crack from yesterday still marks the wall of the shower temple. But today, something else marks it too.  
Another crack.  
Over the wall.  
And the mirror.  
  
The musty smell of old books surrounds Loki. He stands in between the rows of bookcases touching the tall ceiling of his observatory that stands at a distance from his residence. The smell of rosewood cover mixed with the resin binding fills his lungs, bringing back some bittersweet memories, echoes of days that were of a child too innocent to be remembered by the man who stands with stains of blood marking the pages of his history.  
His fingers run over the binding, studying the indentations and smiling when they finally find what they are looking for.  
The tear is still there, right near the bottom right corner where it had been marred while protecting the child that fateful day.  
The click of the door opening brings him back to the present.  
Footsteps sound on the wooden floor before coming to a halt.  
“I thought you would have found something foul by now to have gone and reported it to your… Allfather.”  
An exhale is heard behind him.  
“I am just here to keep an eye on you, Loki.” Heimdall’s voice rebounds from the walls around them.  
The light from the morning sun slides down from the skylight and reflects off his immaculate skin with such romance, Loki has to wonder twice as to why this man wastes his genius on a wretched old fool.  
“And I am sure you could have done it from your country,” he is quick to respond nonetheless.  
“You’re right,” Heimdall mentions, “but then Kira might have been dead last night.”  
The cracks he has been trying to mend since morning abruptly open up again and Loki feels something ominous resurface.  
“Do not blame me for the sins of an excuse of a man.”  
Heimdall crosses his arms across his chest. He is ready to argue today no matter how long it takes.  
“So, you’re telling me you burning down Andrews’ property has nothing to do with her.”  
Loki puts the book back to its designated place.  
“I am saying,” he starts, moving slowly towards the keeper, “the direction of Andrews’ belligerent actions is unjustifiable and you really cannot blame them on me for his poor choices.”  
Heimdall huffs out a silent chuckle.  
“You are the nastiest and the most pathetic human scum I have ever met.”  
Loki cannot help but smirk. “I thought you had eyes everywhere, Heimdall. Clearly, we have been misinformed. Or is because of your somewhat unhealthy obsession with me that you find me the most pathetic?”  
A twist of Heimdall’s jaw makes Loki’s smile even wider.  
“Do not patronize me, Loki.”  
Loki raises his hands, gesturing he is done for the day.  
“There better not be any consequences to your actions that hurt an innocent.” Heimdall declares before turning to walk out of the door.  
“There will always be consequences, Heimdall. You should know it better than anyone, Allfather’s keeper.”  
There is a pause in his step before Heimdall resumes his pace and walks out of the door.  
The smile hovering over Loki’s lips takes it sweet time to disappear before he is left alone in the company of the only things that do not seem to judge his presence.  
His fingers feel the tear on binding again, this time, remembering the reason it was there.  
Taking out his phone, he dials a number.  
“Solaris,” he states questioningly into the phone, “give me the number of the man you were talking about yesterday.”  
“I’ll do you one better,” Solaris’ voice calls out from the other end, “I’ll fix up an appointment for the next hour.”  
  
“Alia, I’m going out for lunch. Do I have any more appointments for the day?”  
Alia stands up and turns her gaze away from the woman giving her instructions.  
The woman turns to land her eyes on you and pause.  
“Oh, God.”  
Without even forcing yourself, your lips stretch into a smile.  
This one doesn’t hurt.  
“Hi, Miss Kaianna.”  
You want to speak more about your abrupt presence at her door but her six feet two figure is already embracing you in a tight hug.  
“Oh God!” she calls out again, your name vibrating through her chest, “it is so good to see you after, what, six years?”  
“Seven,” you whisper as you wrap your arms around her.  
She smells of all things warm. A brush of lavender with a hint of spices. She has the aroma of just what summer is supposed to smell like. For the first time after what seems like ages, your chest seems to feel lighter. And just as it does, the waves spill over the edges.  
Breaking away from the hug gently, you chuckle to hide the tears.  
“Sorry,” you mutter, trying to wipe away as much as possible from your fingertips under the glasses.  
“Don’t be, darling,” Kaianna’s sweet, earthly voice soothes you before gesturing to step inside her office. “Come on in.”  
“Alia,” she turns towards her assistant.  
“I’ll order something for both of you,” Alia chimes with a kind smile.  
  
“Pardon me, Loki,” the pepper-haired man addresses the man standing by his window, “I won’t be able to help you until you tell me something. Anything. It’s all right if you feel it’s small or can be ignored.”  
“You need to know what I want you to know. Work your way around everything else, John,” Loki responds, not taking his eyes away from the colourful birds that hop around in the man’s backyard without worries.  
A sigh escapes John’s lungs.  
“Fine. Do not divulge what you are uncomfortable with. But you need to start somewhere, Loki. I’m not a mind reader,” John clarifies rather soothingly.  
Loki looks at the birds for a few seconds more, enjoying the subtle beauty he doesn’t get to see in his residence- thanks to a certain wolf he knows- before going back to sit down on the sofa.  
The cushioning is surprisingly comfortable. So is the material under his fingertips as he puts them on the armrest. Facing John, he takes a deep breath and begins.  
“I have nightmares.”  
John does not move but his eyes lock on to Loki’s tiniest movement.  
“It’s a normal occurrence, really. Nothing that bothers me much.”  
His fingers smooth out the velvet facing the opposite way than the rest of its surroundings.  
“Until recently.”  
John nods ever so slightly.  
“Were the previous nightmares similar?”  
“More or less.”  
The velvet is moved back against the normality.  
“What about…the recent nightmare. Or nightmares. Were they the same?”  
“No, it wasn’t.”  
The fingers travel a distance before doing the same to connect to the previous darker hue.  
“What was different about this nightmare from rest?”  
Loki’s eyes go up to look at John with pure judgment, making the latter huff in defeat.  
“Okay, which nightmare would you like to describe?”  
“The recent one,” he replies going back to the armrest.  
“Please,” John opens the floor for him.  
The fingers travel again to come back where they would leave the previous strands facing the other way.  
“I saw my house. It was spotlessly clean, as usual. The lights turned on in every room. I was standing in my room and walked out into the hall to see pages scattered on the floor. First I thought they were stained with ink. But when I picked one, it smelled of smoke. Soot. They were scattered in the form of a trail that led to…a room. A study. The door was open and the handle was smeared in something dark. I did not get time to question what it was as I saw blood on the floor in front of me originating from…”  
His voice trails off as he tries to blink away the image etched in his mind.  
John doesn’t speak, waiting for Loki to start where he left off.  
“She was lying there, in her own blood. Her eyes, open, looking for… something…or someone. They were…blank, her eyes. She was dead.”  
Silence.  
“Who was dead in your nightmare?”  
Loki looks down at the armrest, watching the velvet he had forced to stand against its natural current, creating a rerun of the letter ‘K’ over itself.  
“Someone I know,” is all he confesses to.  
“Why do you think you saw her dead?”  
The shades hovering over Loki’s features change from subtle disorientation to rigid displeasure.  
“Really, John?”  
“It’s a quite an obvious question, Loki.”  
“Then pick one of your obvious answers.”  
John tilts his head while settles back a bit.  
“Why watching her dead has created such a stir inside you? You said you had nightmares before. What’s different about this one?”  
Loki looks at the letter in velvet, his fingers hovering over it.  
“Because it is an inconvenience, John,” he iterates, pressing his fingers into the fabric right beside the letter, “A small hindrance in the way of bigger plans. I have much bigger things to worry about than her.”  
And without another thought, his hand wipes away the letter, making the velvet settle back where it is supposed to be.  
“And I understand in order to get past it, I need to work through it.”  
  
“I’m not going to let you walk out of that door before you finish this pasta, Kira.”  
You groan through the that you try to wipe away now and then along with your runny nose before Kaianna hands you a tissue box.  
“I’m not hungry, Miss K,” you try to reason with her.  
“I know, honey,” Kaianna states softly, before pouring some iced tea in a tall glass and raising it for you to hold, “I know you aren’t, but your body needs the energy and I know that you know I’m not wrong.”  
Buying some time by wiping away your tears, you contemplate the tea in front of you before taking the glass in your hand.  
“But I won’t eat all of it,” you stress, taking a gulp of the cold brew.  
Kaianna nods with a wave of bliss over her face. “I’ll take that,” she acknowledges and serves the pasta with a side of garlic bread.  
A couple of bites in and you are enjoying the food.  
“This tastes good,” you think out loud.  
“Guess where it’s from.”  
The chewing stops and curiosity brushes your brows for a few seconds while you lick the stray creamy pesto from your finger  
“Is…is it from Mal’s place?”  
Kaianna nods with delight.  
“I loved the Alfredo that you’d brought over that Christmas so much that I try everything on their menu since.”  
A cheerful little squeak escapes you as you take in another bite and taste the distant familiarity of the local bakery with the best pasta in the city.  
The meal is enjoyed gushing over food and the local places that have thrived over people’s need for quality on a decent budget, making you rake all that you do not like in the city you currently live in in comparison.  
“…so the only thing keeping me sane is the music and this wolf I made friends with,” you conclude, taking another serving of the pasta from the bowl.  
Kaianna sits there waiting for you to say something more.  
“I’m sorry…I thought you said you made friends with a wolf.”  
You nod.  
“His name’s Fenrir. He’s my boss’ pet.”  
She shifts a little where she sits, keeping her plate down on the table, taking some time to let the new information seep in.  
“The same boss who tried to intimidate you the first day you met him and quite possibly might be the reason you were attacked last night.”  
A tired sigh leaves your nostrils.  
“Yeah, that one. But his wolf is really nice. I think Fenrir likes me. And Loki doesn’t like that fact.”  
“Loki.” Kaianna runs the name over her tongue to scour her mind before her brows rise up a little.  
“I’ll take your leave now,” you state, gathering the dishes, bringing her back into the room.  
“Oh, it’s all right. I’ll take care of it,” Kaianna assures you, forcing you to leave them be as she gets up and walks you to the door.  
“Thank you so much, Miss K,” you bid her farewell with a tight hug, which is happy to return.  
“You are always welcome, dear. Never hesitate to come over, okay? You now know where the keys are. And don’t forget to take the prescription I wrote for you. Visit me again after three weeks dosage and we’ll measure your progress,” she insists as she rubs your back and walks out of the door with you.  
“Yes,” you acknowledge with a slight nod and a soft smile, “I wi-”  
The door on the opposite side opens and out comes a familiar figure, who is just as surprised to see you as you to see him.  
“Kira,” Loki’s blank face somehow composes itself to greet you.  
“Loki,” you answer, forgetting for a minute you are addressing your boss- who seems to be going through something similar.  
Though you are pretty good at wiping away the stains, Loki can see the remnants of tears over your skin that has been rubbed time and again with tissues.  
Kaianna and John exchange a look as they step towards each other to stare at the other’s patient, having their own personal realisations.  
“This…” you try to snap yourself out of the ice freezing you from head to toe in your mind, “is Kaianna. My…mentor. She’s been my mentor and counsel for some years now.”  
“And my wife,” John points out, earning a nudge in his stomach from her.  
“Mrs Jerome,” Loki extends his hand in courtesy, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”  
“Likewise,” is all Kaianna mentions with a kind smile as she shakes his hand.  
“Great,” John breaks your mushed train of thought with a single loud clap, “looks like you two have company on your way back.”  
 _Perfect. Just what I was looking for._  
Even with the tides of disapproval running inside you, you realise your sassy self seems to be feeling better today.  
“I thought you were visiting-”  
“No,” you stop Kaianna mid-way, “I just came over to…see you. My family doesn’t know I’m here.”  
Loki’s distinct green in the daylight surrounding him from every window in the house seems to be focused only on you, not going recognised by the couple.  
“Oh, okay. See you soon then, sweetheart.” Kaianna gives you a side hug before you turn towards Loki, who appears more than glad to escort you out.  
  
“If you do not have any other plans for this city today you can come back with us,” Loki finally speaks as both of you step out of the elevator to walk out of the block.  
“Yes, I’d like that. Thank you.”  
The sacred fig on the boundary of the block flaps its leaves lazily in the mild afternoon breeze. A couple of kids coming back from school walk by swinging and skipping while a few women ogle at your boss from a distance before whispering something to each other and giggling, breaking your features into a smile that you have to press away.  
“Have you visited this city before?” The words are out of you before you have a chance to go over them at least the usual eleven times.  
“No, never before today,” he answers, patiently matching your steps.  
Robert questions his eyes as he watches you walk back with Loki towards him. A part of him wonders if you had travelled all the way here- which was barely a fifty-five minute flight and half his monthly salary- to the same place Loki apparently had some work to take care of, which Robert knew was a visit to the psychologist he had looked up to find their way to his house. Another part of him is glad that you did. Apart from these two is another latent part inside his chest that feels a pinch of satisfaction on seeing you and Loki walking back without the usual strain of observatory glances each other’s way. Just his boss and boss’ assistant doing small talk.  
The journey back to the airport is mostly silent but for you pointing to Robert a few turns and roads that are a faster way to reach the airport that the GPS isn’t aware of. And when you reach there, you realise two things. One, you are leaving your city- the one place you feel you could finally breathe in as soon as you had stepped out of the plane this morning- without meeting your family, your only human source of strength. Two, the rides with Loki have not been as uncomfortable as you feel the moment you step inside the airport with everyone’s eyes on the man walking in front of you and then on you.  
Loki and Robert do not seem to mind the piercing gazes at all, something which you appreciate and wish to have inculcated in you at some point because you, on the other hand, have trouble even doing the most basic things while thinking who was possibly watching.  
“The jet’s being readied and will fifteen ten more minutes,” Robert comes to you and Loki as you two pass through the security, “would you two like some   refreshments for now?”  
“Tea, please. Lemon and honey. Thank you,” Loki declares to the man standing beside Robert with a trademark smile plastered on his face.  
“Lemonade would do. Thank you so much,” you say.  
A moment passes.  
“Wait,” you snap out of a trance, “a jet?”  
  
“The suit has gone through and the hearing will take place next week. Andrews’ lawyers tried to go for a settlement once they found out that his estate will either be divided into the labour or taken up by Sun Corp for the damages incurred as written in the clause. You were right, sir. This man does not give two shits about the people who work for him and everyone on the land is more than happy to sign any deal we present them to get out of his hold.”  
You can see a glimmer in those green eyes sitting opposite you, looking down into the screen in front of them as VK tells him about the legal team’s progress.  
“Anything else?” is all they ask as Loki’s fingers slowly rub over his lips in some light but delightful contemplation.  
“Yes,” VK adds, “the man whom Robert brought in last night confessed to having been paid by Andrews to attack Kira. He has gone on record and is being kept in protection until the judge asks for him to be presented in court.”  
You shift where you sit at the mention of the man, your hand going over to the back of your heated neck as you try to find a distraction inside the well-lit jet to get your mind away from the events of the previous night, something that does not miss Loki’s perceptive gaze.  
“We’ll discuss the details tomorrow. Thank you, VK,” Loki snaps the laptop shut while the stewardess comes over to the two of you to offer champagne.  
The bubbles rise up to the surface, pure golden glitters floating about in the liquid that you stare at for a lingering moment.  
Loki finds himself studying you, going over your features, the tension in your shoulders under the jacket, the movement of your fingers as they glide over the rim of the glass- smooth and testing, according to him.  
“Kira,” he finally speaks, placidly helping you out of your own comforting corner inside your mind, “may I propose something to you?”  
With a slight crinkle in your brow, you do not give much thought before saying yes.  
“We,” he stresses quite reasonably, “clearly got off on the wrong foot in the beginning and…to add to that, the recent incidents did not do much for the friction except increase it.”  
You hold tightens a bit around the glass.  
“As my way of trying to working things out, I would like to suggest something and you’re okay to disapprove of it if you do not find it rational in any sense.”  
“…okay.”  
Loki leans a bit forward in his seat and you find yourself discreetly catching your breath.  
“I would like you to move into The Gram…not only to make the work easier on both of us but also till…at least till this case is done with.”  
A light cough comes from the last row of the seats -where Robert sits- in the numbing silence that follows. Your mind swims in Loki’s words, testing the depth, the ripples and the tides.  
Your parted lips take in a breath, bringing Loki’s focus on your eyes.  
“So…that means all the expenditure done on the equipment set in my house will be wasted?”  
You sip your champagne, watching Loki’s lips part in slight wonderment that he tries to gulp down hastily, eventually forcing a smile out of you.  
Loki watches you glow a shade under the golden lights of the jet and returns your smile with his.  
“As usual, the company will take care of the expenditure,” he postulates before raising his glass a little.  
You mirror him and let the glasses clink, sounding a silent truce and a clean restart while Robert enjoys the part as the audience in the back.


	6. Is That Hope I See?

You don't know where it all began. You're really not trying to remember. But there is this slight tick somewhere in the back of your mind that is constantly sucking at the uneasiness you're feeling as you perceive sleeping in your bed, the birds chirping outside, the five plushies all scattered around you. The heaviness of your lids is welcoming. The softness of the pillow in contrast to the hardness of your bed is an old bliss that comforts your soul, letting you float further into slumber.

_ Wait. This does not feel right. _

_ This is your room but this isn't your room. _

_ How are you... _

Like an inorganic wave originating from an instinctive well inside you, you feel a cold ripple run all over your back.

A presence- foreign and somehow unwelcomed by the subconscious- lingers somewhere around you. There is a shift in your nerves. The softness of the pillow seems to prick at the sweat beads being born around your neck. The hardness for the mattress makes your fetal posture uneasy.

_ Why? _

The duvet covering you seems to slide down a bit. Your body shifts, your hands look for the edges of your comfort fluffiness, your nose buries itself in your pillow to inhale a long lost scent of lavender.

There is a lingering instant of peace before your body feels the cold seep over your exposed skin again.

Your arms seem to stretch with a life of their own to find the heated security that feels to be slipping away from around you. Just as they search for it, a foreign touch lands over your exposed waist. Heated fingers make your neurons jolt, a muted signal goes off in some part of your brain as it tries to wake you up- making you comprehend this isn't a dream but reality. The fingers seem to travel over the skin right above the hem of your shorts before they tuck at the fabric from the inside and those already fired up neurons break the dams to wake you up with the fury of a thousand suns as your hand grabs the knife from under your pillow and aims at the empty air.

Heavy breaths and the stench of sweat mixed with the odour of a tiring journey fills your nostrils as you find yourself back in the darkness of your apartment.

The shadows of leaves over your bedroom window formed by the yellow streetlight confirm you really are here; that along with your shaking hands turning on as many switches as you can find till your room lit up like October celebrations.

The racing heartbeat forces the eyes to take in the surroundings bit by bit. Suppressing your agitated breaths, your ears strain themselves to hear anything out of ordinary at- you turn to look at your phone on the bedside table- twenty-four minutes past three in the morning.

Nothing is ordinary at this time.

Your fingers still hold the polished wooden handle in a fierce grip while you wait for nothing, in particular, to show itself in your little space before you can make yourself believe that it really was just a dream and you knew whom you were expecting to stab in that dream.

The grip loosens and your head slumps into your pillow that feels cold and wet on your heated skin all around the neck. The lights are still and you continue looking at the ceiling while hearing your heartbeat through your thumping veins and eardrums. Your hands close into fists, strain the veins throughout and release, repeating the movements that have become a new ritual. Only when the heat dies down and the tears are smeared away do you get up, exhale all the undesirable and move out of bed to pack up your belongings.

* * *

 

The pair of brown eyes on the other side of the screen watch you busy yourself in dividing your materials and packing them up in boxes.

"Still there, Heimdall?"

"Mm. Yes," he responds, swivelling his chair a bit to wake him out of some dense thoughts, "I'm here."

"I heard a rattle." The other voice coming from his phone sounds concerned.

"Yes, everything is fine. Just-" he exhales as he sits up and places his elbows on the table and looks at your figure placing your Bulbasaur plushie and One Piece figures inside the boxes with utmost care- "she had a nightmare, I think."

"Kira?"

"Mm-hm."

"Is she okay?"

"If by okay you mean if she's is physically showing any signs of stress or anxiousness? Yes, she's absolutely fine."

"...but?"

Silence.

"She's distracting herself, Brunn. That too really well. Almost like-"

"She's used to it now."

Heimdall nods into the air.

"So, Laki's not the reason for this," she exhales like she is almost disappointed.

"No," Heimdall hums, "no. She hasn't had anything close to a nightmare before the attack. I guess we triggered some old wound." His voice questioned himself in breaks.

"...did you just say 'we'? Heimda-"

"I am as much a part of it as Loki, Brunnhilde," he announces softly with firm resolute in his voice, "I am as much responsible for anyone the young one takes under his wing."

A scoff is heard from the other end.

"Well, that makes one of... someone."

Heimdall's chair squeaks a bit as he shifts in it, opening his mouth and then closing it, not sure of what he is about to say.

"What is it?" Brunn questions him with authority mixed in the soothing winds of her crisp voice.

He scrunches his nose before exhaling through his mouth and stretching his lips as he ponders painfully.

"Brunn, I think somewhere...he does care."

"About himself? Well, duh."

"About others. Some, if not all."

The other side is numb for a good few seconds.

"Where is this coming from?"

Heimdall's eyes go back to the screen where he sees you in crisp colours taking out books from your dusty shelves, sneezing thrice. The hands are washed in the kitchen sink before a few of your seemingly favourite mugs and jars are packed in another box and then comes the turn of your clothes, placing them in the box half-heartedly.

"I don't know," Heimdall hums again, his chin resting over his fist. While the other hand covers his mouth in some sullen thought. "I'm not sure."

Looking at the time on your phone, you exhale and switch off the lights to let the breaking dawn tiptoe through the window.

Even from where he sits, Heimdall can feel the morning pleasantness carefully swaddled in hues of pink and purple slowly burning up with every passing second.

"Let me know when they kiss," Brunn breaks through, catching the watcher by surprise, whom words fail and he pauses through sounds and eventually snickers.

"That's not gonna-"

"I bet you a G."

"Brunn-"

"Don't chicken out now, Golden-eyes. I don't care if they don't make out for like another year. But it's gonna happen from the sounds you're making. Are you in or are you out?"

"...fine. One G it is."

"All right, what's our goth doing?"

Heimdall turns to the other screen to watch the familiar figure's bare back towards the camera. He sits at the edge of his bed, brooding, deep in thought, planning a new scheme, a murder, a revolution, the brown eyes cannot tell but the possibility of it being any one of them is very high.

The figure gets up from the edge of his bed and walks over his ringing phone. Over time Heimdall has noticed the change in his earlier careful and composed gait to something more...free and animalistic. The ripped muscles of his thighs exposed to the lights under the black boxers and the muscles that have seen some work are not of the second son of his Master and Missus. This man is someone else, entirely. He is something else.

_ Or was he this all along? _

Sliding the call to speaker, he does not say a word but picks up a file from the table and walks to the other side.

"It's done, sir."

A familiar voice echoes through the room. Heimdall knows it too well.

_ Tez. _

"Did everyone agree?"

There is a slight chuckle over the other side of the phone on the screen.

"For the things they've been through they would have agreed to less, sir."

Inhaling with satisfaction as his skin glows under the soft golden light behind the mirror in front of which he stands, Loki puts the file in his top drawer and closes it before facing his reflection.

"Good," he announces looking at the sleep-deprived green eyes staring back, "send the rest."

* * *

 

Two clean knocks on the door and you jump up from your bed, straightening your black blouse and cream Palazzo pants.

Walking past the boxes as you run everything once again in your mind, the steady but unneeded throb of your veins tries to bring out the heat at the back of your neck but your hands are already twisting the door handle to greet the person you're expecting.

"Rob-oh. Hey."

Sam stands there, his glowing slight smile faltering a bit. "Bad time? I guess you were expecting someone else."

Your lips are half-parted, trying to find something that doesn't make him standing at your doorway like a big disappointment- which, when you're honest with yourself, is half the truth as you hate surprise visits- when your eyes catch the familiar flecks of gold glittering between the silver and bit of green.

"Him. I was expecting him. Robert, this is Sam. Sam, Robert. Come on in."

Sam turns around to find the familiar face who had been your ride yesterday smiling at him before walking past him into your space.

Something doesn't settle right in his stomach as he watches the boxes piled up in your apartment, a small part of him wilting for reasons he did not want to say out loud.

"A-are you moving away?"

The words come out with a coarseness that is preventing a somewhat morbid reality.

You look at Sam and then the boxes, "Oh! I'm moving over to my Boss' place. He works from home and it kinda makes sense that his PA saves the two hours of traffic coming and going. So..." You gesture at piles and shrug.

A half-hearted 'oh' escapes Sam's lips.

"I'm still paying the rent for this place though," you continue, scratching some itch at the back of your head, "you know, just in case."

Another knock at the door brings two of Robert's underlings as they haul a box over another and take them away as if their weights mean nothing, forcing you to wonder how you were barely able to carry one to the kitchen table.

"So, we're meeting on Friday, right?"

"Hm?"

The words bring him out of the sullen trance as Sam turns to you with something heating up his chest.

"How does eight sound?"

Sam's lips form a pretty pink 'o' as he wonders at his luck before answering positively. "Yes! Eight sounds amazing! Should I pick...you-"

"I'll meet you at the City Centre."

* * *

 

Ygritte greets you at the front door, her paleness carrying a blush you've never seen before.

_ Wonder what she's happy about. _

You aren't even asked to be bothered with the boxes, which somehow makes you heavy with the thought of making the security work as your servants, neither of which you are used to.

Ygritte takes you through the door- which you have been coming through long enough to know your way around but are too polite to let the kind woman know- and walks you through the familiar halls till you reach a lounge that has a connecting corridor to another part of the house that you haven't seen before.

The connecting pathway is stone with walls of glass around it and wooden archway gracing the garden outside at intervals. A small pond lies towards the outer bound of the pathway with fishes and a sōzu resting by the side that is collecting the trickling water to send it down with a mellifluous periodic clang. The flowers in full bloom surrounding the pond are not any variety you've grown amongst. They seem alien and beautiful. So do the creepers with white and lavender coloured wildflowers that are climbing the wooden pillars supporting the archway.

It takes you some time to figure out that you have paused in the pathway, and so have Ygritte and Robert- waiting for you to let them know your needs before they can show you where you will be staying.

Swiftly walking to the other end with your boots clacking hard on the stones beneath you can feel the embarrassment rise up all over you and swirl inside your head.

"This is your side of the house, Miss Kira," Ygritte announces ever so gently.

_ My...side? _

The space in front of you is a lounge with the most comfortable colour tones of beige, cream, coffee and latte. To your left is nothing but glass overlooking the green expanse of the estate with a tree planted close by for the perfect shady spot in the space inside. The roof of this entire space is glass too, letting in ample amount sunlight and shade.

Turning to your right you see two walls- one right in front of you, one to your right, right from where you entered- covered entirely in books while the third wall- has musical instruments, tapestries of some culture you are not aware of and a door that leads to the bedroom.

The bedroom shares a common wall with the lounge and somehow makes you glad it does not have a glass roof. The setting is the same but with a splash of the faintest green hue- something that makes you smile.

Robert notices that smile, exchanging a look with Ygritte before clearing his throat.

"Is there anything else you'd like us to get, Kira?"

You turn around and notice that the earlier heat has reached up further down your neck.

"Um...no. This is pretty adequate, I think. Where's Mr Loki?"

"He's in his study," Ygritte is quick to answer.

"Oh. Okay. Thank you. Both of you."

You walk out of...your section of the house all the way to the other side to the study but not before Ygritte has heard your stomach growl.

* * *

 

"You have a ten' o'clock with legal here. And a twelve o'clock with the heads of all your subsidiaries. The meetings with the plant owners have been set as per your schedule. Which reminds me, this plant is a good buy. This other one? Not so much."

Loki is watching you place papers ever so meticulously in front of him, watching the movement of your fingers over the titles before they go back to get another paper and place it right by its side. Going back again, they twist the sole ring in your right hand.

"Oh! And the tailor. Your tailor is coming over at four. Like you asked," you conclude.

When Loki's eyes linger on the papers you take the opportunity to study his features. Those green eyes sparkle under the sun rays coming in from the windows on the side. His hair flows gracefully over his shoulder. And is that the smell of an expensive shampoo in the air? Every strand stands out as if it has been conditioned to shine even in death.

His long fingers pull one of the papers towards him before going over his lips in some deep thought, tapping the pink surface gently with his index.

_ Devil. _

Your insides look at him from the corner of their eyes, going  _ hmph! _ at his flawless skin under the tan and some old straight lines that seem akin to remnants of some scars. They scoff at the naturally arched brow that sculpts his face into a Godly form of resting bitch face.

_ Why not? _ Your inside voice speaks,  _ with his IQ and the type of people in power he is surrounded with, it seems more of a birthright to have a resting bitch face even if I resent it. Jeez, why does he get to have flawless skin? I bet he gets weekly facials. _

The green eyes look up at you and as much as you want to look away like you usually do no matter who sits or stands in front of you, your eyes seem to have been locked down by green waves emanating from the person sitting there.

"Why does my assistant think that  _ this _ plant isn't good enough?"

The long fingers entwine into each other, the legs parting under the glass table as the shoes firmly place themselves on the floor, the shoulders inch forward.

_ Is that...is that a genuine question? _

"Uhh..." You clear your throat, not really having prepared for the distractio- for the questions, "the um...present owner is cheating on his wife with his mistress."

Silence.

_ You dumb twat. _

"What I mean is-" you watch Loki shift in his chair and your voice wavers a bit- "it's not long before his cheating ways become common knowledge. I mean I found out so it won't be long till the rest of the concerned world knows it. And when that happens, his wife is the kind to sue him for every last drop of blood. And not to mention-"

"The stain on the reputation," Loki thinks out loud as his gaze has slowly shifted to some invisible void in space before those eyes are looking at you again, this time, with a smirk just waiting to break at the edge of this lips.

"Let me guess. His mistress  _ is _ the management."

You press your lips and nod.

_ He's good. _

"Hmm," he brings his entwined fingers up close to his lips and a curse escapes your insides, "and the other one? Why is it the better choice?"

"Oh!" You exclaim, placing some wild and some invisible strands of your hair behind your ear to hide the change in colour over your cheeks, an action that does not go unnoticed by those keen eyes, "The other one's owner is a pretty hard working man, has been in the manufacturing business for ten years now, takes care of his employees, has a good judgement when it comes to character of people he's going to do business with."

The light tapping of the tips of his index over his lips stops as his brows furrow ever so slightly.

"You know him."

Your lungs take one long inhale. "Yeah. Yes. I've known him for the last...seven years. But I did do my research just to be on the safer side. I have all the data open on my laptop if you..."

Your voice trails off and so does Loki's eyes from you to something past you.

"I'll see to it myself. You just take care of the tasks for today." He waves you off, turning his chair a bit to the side.

Picking up the rest of your folder and turning, your eyes catch Ygritte's figure standing on the other side of the door.

"Do I have anything in the next five minutes?"

"Apart from your breakfast-" you mention as you walk out and watch Ygritte pushing in a tray- "I don't think so."

"This is for you, Miss Kira."

You pause, half confused, half surprised before rushing out of the door, closing it carefully behind you.

"Miss Ygritte, what-"

"Just some fruits and a grilled cheese sandwich for you. Come, I will keep it here on the table for you."

Ygritte smiles at you before going across the lounge and placing the tray over the dining table.

_ How many dining halls does this house have? _

Considering it would be rude to reject her efforts- and the wailing noises coming from your empty belly- you pick up your things from the lounge and set them up on the table, hoping she doesn't mind you mixing work and breakfast. You already have your parents taking care of that part that too when they're miles away.

The breakfast is filling and delicious, so is the green tea Ygritte leaves you with afterwards and suddenly your thoughts go back home, being grateful for every time your parents did things for you without you even asking for them.

The legal team arrives right on time and VK makes sure to come around to you- who hasn't moved from the table- to give you special greetings.

"Heard you're moving in with the boss?" The suggestive smile and the tone rub you in all the wrong ways as he makes himself comfortable on the chair opposite you.

You pause to breathe in and out, giving yourself enough time to not think about picking up the cup of hot tea and splashing it right into his face.

"I thought you'd hear it sooner."

You hear his chuckles across your laptop but are too busy trying to get the heated device to get your work done in time to put in any effort to hate him.

"We got the lawsuit through by the way," he continues, "going to suck him dry thanks to you and boss."

Now that does catch your attention.

"Sorry?"

VK's gaze that had been busy observing your shapes and contours comes up to meet your fired up stare.

"Mr L bought the Andrews estate and all the business that came with it but not before he made sure there was a clause in the contract that said the workers on that estate owned whatever parts they worked on."

You look at him for a good second of silence.

"But doesn't that mean they were the owners when the fire spread out in the estate? Andrews won't be bearing anything from his pocket to the workers."

VK simply smiles.

"And that's why there are lawyers, sweetheart. The clause also stated that any mismanagement, misdealings, unethical working on the estate that comes up within the first quarter of the closure of contract will be the sole responsibility of the previous owner, for which he can be sued."

You feel your brows shoot up as you sink back into your chair.

"So...what kind of mismanagement came up?"

VK seems like he had been waiting for this question as he doesn't waste a second to lean in excitedly and just lay it all in front of you.

"Mismanagement? The entire workforce hated that filth of a man! They signed away without so much as an explanation after the fire when they heard we were going to sue their previous boss."

"Woah!"

"Yeah! The insurance company is covering all costs on the fire and Andrews is looking at a gaping hole in his wallet."

A certain specific thought itches your brain and you cannot help but bite into your lower lip in question.

"What?" VK is already reading the doubts over your features.

"I hope this isn't going too far?"

A tilt of his head and his eyes seem to be trying to read something on you.

"Kira, that man sent some goon to attack you just so he could take his resentment out on your boss. Not to mention you're a new hire and pretty much a liability for the first few days if not an asset, no offence. How do you think he handled the workers who'd worked for him for ages and didn't show results he wanted?"

You sit there silently, letting his words seep in when he sees your lips part to pop another question.

"And before you go ahead to say what I think you are I would just like to mention he'd asked me to look into the insurance way before. He knew what kind of character Andrews was way before anyone in the company even got a hint that Sun Corp was thinking of buying his business."

A woman from the legal team breaks the conversation when she calls out for VK to begin the meeting.

"That's my cue. See ya later, K."

"It's Kira," you announce, making him raise his hands in apology before he turns to walk to Loki's office.

"Hey, VK," you call out, controlling the shiver in your voice, "about the...about my thing-"

"It's being handled in a hushed manner," he nods your way, the usually smug look on his face leaving him for a moment, "don't worry. The Sun Corp takes care of its own. Discreetly, if the need be."

"Well, that sounds not ominous at all."

VK chortles as walks away, leaving you incredibly lighter than you were this morning.

A million thoughts run in your head all at once.

_ Loki knew. He knew all along. He was aware of Andrews' character, his methods, his weaknesses. He was even aware of things more beneath the surface, using those very foundations to rock the man off his pedestal. _

You look at the stained glass and your mind easily points out to the lone fuzzy figure in the darkest shadows standing- rather, sitting- apart from the light all around him.

_ Why is it so easy to point him out of the crowd? He is supposed to be just another businessman concerned with the profits, good plans for the future, a decent health plan for his workforce and may some added incentives. _ But something inside your mind sticks there like a stubborn leech not wanting to leave you till it has consumed enough of your thoughts.

This wasn't just about business. This man had literally earned the trust of his future employees by taking the first step to burying the monster of their past in the ground.

_ What are you? _

You watch the shadow turn towards you, the paleness in contrast to the black that covers the rest of the body seems to somewhat stare right at you, sending ripples of a cold wave up and down your existence.

* * *

 

"A party."

"Yes," Loki declares, his arms stretched far out as he looks at you with a blank face that you are trying your best not to laugh at even when he has just thrown another curve ball at you.

"You want  _ me  _ to organise a party...here. At  _ your _ place."

"What is so hard to get about this, Kira?"

"The part where  _ I _ am supposed to organise an event inside your home for some  _ very _ specific people with some  _ very _ specific tastes. I am sure a professional would do wonders for you, sir. At least better than I ever will. Looking for one of those, I can take care of."

Gustav, the man responsible for keeping all the fabrics clenched to Loki to make them look like they had no other purpose in their making, comes out from behind Loki to measure his shoulders.

"Miss Kira, Master Loki, if I may be so bold," Gustav's raspy but deep voice calls out your name with a warmth of a tender but authoritative figure, "you have kept this place a secret from prying eyes since the time it was made. I am wondering this...party that you are planning is for people you...trust?"

_ Trust _ . The words come out with the gentleness of the wax being poured over a treasured letter before being sealed shut, forcing you to be curious about how many people does Loki actually trust?

And just like that, an arrow with a burning tip shoots itself from the dark that lands in the sea of everything flammable your mind.

_ He let you inside his hidden treasure. _

"And if  _ that _ is the case," Gustav's voice brings you out of the sudden illumination, "then I don't think Master Loki would want an outsider to handle his treasures with as much trust and belief as he would you."

Fenrir's tired and declarant yawn from the lounge fills the study where you three stand.

Inhaling as much as you can and twisting your jaw at the redundancy of it all, you give a side nod.

"I need a list of your guests by evening. I'll be taking Ygritte and Robert for this."

Both men watch you walk the door before Loki smirks and lets out a silent chuckle.

"Still saving me, Gustav."

Gustav keeps working on taking measurements like it is his everyday business.

"What? From that sweet woman? I would rather shave my head than make you avoid a gentle war of words with the women in your life, Loki."

"It's master Loki to you."

"Oh, kiss my ass, you lucky idiot."

Ygritte and Robert had turned out to be more helpful than you had imagined. She vouched for the staff under her to prepare whatever snacks, meal, decorations you had in mind while Robert took the responsibility for the security of the estate whilst producing a list of his dedicated chauffeurs to bring in and take away the guests.

So now all that is left for you to do is go over the guest list and try to make things as pleasing for your guests as can while trying your best to remind yourself every two minutes that you could not make everyone happy.

Ten minutes past seven and you give up on getting that list for the day. Changing into your night t-shirt and shorts you sit on the amazingly cold floor in your designated glass-roofed lounge, trying to get your head to stop pounding from the multiple things it has absorbed today.

An exhale of all air out of your lungs and your back is hitting the floor ever so gently, letting the unnecessary heat dissipate into the surface beneath you, giving you some satisfaction if not all of it.

There is no sound but you feel the presence as soon as he enters the room. Your head turns to greet those sparkling eyes that meet yours in confused joy and your heart automatically feels a soft warm glow inside it.

"Hey," you softly address Fenrir who sniffs you whole before checking your cheeks with his tongue.

Nudging your side with his nose, he turns thrice before settling down with his back nuzzled into you.

"I can't figure out your father, you know?" You speak softly while running your fingers through his hair. "Sometimes he seems so cruel, so heartless. Doing seemingly inhuman things, making shady deals. Other times, it... it feels like he's misunderstood, he seems kind, gentle even."

You hear Fenrir huff and raise a brow sideways as he gives you a look, making you chuckle softly.

“I know, right? Either he’s crazy or we are.”

You hum, your hands still playing with the soft fur of the wolf who is enjoying the attention it is getting.

“I hope we are the crazy ones, Fenrir. ‘Cause I honestly do not have much strength left in me to make my conscience go through all of the fucked up turmoil again. For once it would be great to just have a...simple relation, decent work and a modest roof. Not that the view is bad from here.”

You chuckle at your own inside joke before smacking your hand over your head.

“Shit! I forgot to take my meds!”

Picking up your phone, you set a reminder for the consecutive mornings and picking up your earphones, you plant them in your ears but not before you ask Fenrir if he’d like to join you- to which he just turns his head away and his back further into your side.

“Suit yourself, fluffy boy,” you mutter and put your head into the cold floor and play whatever your playlist throws at you. Soon, your ears fill with Lesley Ann Brandt’s version of Wonderwall. Everything else falls away. The caves of despair you woke up inside in the morning seem to crumble in the softness of the voice of that powerful woman. The nightmares and memories of shallow breaths dilute away into the sweet melodies in the background. Everything dissolves into a pool you are floating in, absorbing all that is unneeded; all that is unwanted; all that is uncalled for, welcoming something new.

* * *

 

Loki picks up the paper that barely touches the surface of the printer tray and walks out of his study. The black t-shirt loosely clings to him and so do the track pants, both carrying the traces of sweat of a fruitful workout.

Past the lounge, down the halls, past the kitchen he catches Ygritte cleaning up, stops and traces his steps back a few.

“Where’s Kira?”

Ygritte turns towards him, her eyes looking a bit puffy than usual but the usual smile never falters.

“I saw her go to the east wing a few hours ago. She did not come for dinner. I was just going there with the dinner plate.”

“Ygritte, you know the rules of this house,” Loki asserts with the dominance in his voice.

Ygritte opens her mouth to say something but is shut down by the perfectly veiled cold glare she receives from Loki.

“Yes, sir.”

He walks down the hallway and comes across the connecting glass corridor, seeing the lights in the lounge on the other side on. Already making his way, quiet as a cat, he notices something by the floor.

The sight of your feet lying vertically on the floor spurs an unknown reflex inside him, making him walk faster towards your limp figure. He nearly is on the edge of breaking into a sprint when he notices Fenrir’s head pop up in front of where you lay, his tail taking a slight swing in the air on seeing his master.

Loki stops short and notices your chest rise and fall, earphones inside your ears, your face the most relaxed he has ever seen- more than when you were at the Andrews farm, the thought of that place twitching something inside Loki for a second. He takes a step across the sofa nearest to him only to watch his wolf bring one paw in front of him.

Tilting his head at his pet in question, Loki takes a testing step towards you, receiving a low growl from Fenrir.

“Treacherous little beast,” he whispers at his son, making the latter huff but not leave his position.

All the mild rage he is feeling towards the wolf seems to fritter away when you turn to his side, your arm landing over Fenrir’s back, catching the wolf by surprise.

“Don’t.”

Fenrir’s reflex to bite into your arm is stopped by one smooth but deeply stirring command of his master, forcing him to look at Loki, questioning him with piercing eyes.

But those golden flecks are nothing in front of the composed iridescent green, making them kneel before him.

“Good wolf.”

The site of you vulnerable on the floor is something Loki had not been expecting at all and yet here he is; watching you sleep on the floor whilst watching his wolf being used as a cuddle buddy.

But he has to mention to himself that it is serene to observe you like this. Not anxious about every passing minute, not having to watch the hollow darkness in and under your eyes. For once you looked like you are not being killed with every breath.

_ For once he feels like maybe he wasn’t either. _

Putting the paper he brought with him on the coffee table, he bends down to carefully take off your glasses, pausing right when you shuffle a bit. Picking up the smallest cushion from the sofa, he picks up your head just enough to plant the pile of mild fluffiness beneath it.

His hand leaves your head as soon as they know you are comfortable while his eyes still linger on your face, studying the details, every groove, every corner, every little thing that stands out, leaving you when he realises his presence might be undesired at this time of the night. And so, pulling himself away from a resting flower, he turns around to dim the lamps only for his eye to catch something.

Out of the wing, he walks straight into the kitchen.

“Ygritte.”

“Anything you want, sir?”

“Keep something in the fridge in case...I’m hungry at night.”

“For you, sir?”

“Just in case, Ygritte.”

“...okay, sir?”

“And make sure Kira has a glass of water at breakfast tomorrow.”

“...Yes, sir.”

“And...try to make sure she takes her medicines after breakfast. I don’t want my own assistant falling ill because of...not taking her medication.”

“O-of course, sir. Anything else?”

Loki inhales, in some deep thought for a second before snapping himself out of it.

“Yes,” he states as he walks out towards his bedroom, “Do this as discreetly as possible.”

Ygritte stands there alone, a satisfactory sigh leaving her lungs as she picks up a water bottle and puts it beside the plate covered with a note that says ‘For Kira’ before closing it, switching off the lights and walking to her room with a blissful soft hum.


	7. A Part of Me

There is a bittersweet scent of citrus floating in the air with a welcoming silence that you cannot remember of hearing since far too long. A string of sweet chirps somewhere does not allow you to open eyes. Instead, they play the right nerves inside your head to send you deeper into slumber.

And you would have, had it not been for the unknown source of heated touch on your back that wakes you up instantly to find Fenrir lounging lazily beside you on your bed.

"Really?" You look at him, the morning in your voice and eyes heavy, "ever heard of asking permission before getting into bed with someone else?"

He plainly huffs and slides his legs on your side of the bed.

"Wonder where you get that from," you softly announce into the thin air before walking out of the room and into the garden.

It has nearly been a week but you can still not get over the fact that you can feel such stunning, mellifluous silence of nature right next to the worst, most inconsiderate of places. The green expanse covered in the dense trees with birds and animals you'd never had the pleasure of seeing before in a place like this somehow fills you with a bit of irrevocable joy every day.

_ How was I able to survive in that heartless pit? _

Without answering your own question you go back inside and turn towards the hallway leading to the kitchen to get yourself something cool and liquid to start your day with right after you've brushed your teeth.

And like always, you forget which path to go down in order to reach your destination, wandering down the corridor you  _ think  _ might lead you towards some honey and lemon at least.

The doors- same everywhere, frosted glass framed in oak- do not make things any simpler. Frustrated, you walk the one you are the closest to; that seems like the same direction that the kitchen door was facing last night when you went to ask Ygritte for the fifth time about the desserts and wine.

Your fingers move forward to turn it and realise a second late that it's not shut all the way, already turning halfway to reveal another person inside.

You recognize him from his hair but it is your first time seeing those black strands moved up into a bun. At that moment you are aware of the fact that you've never been a hairstyle enthusiast but watching part of those dark tresses bundled up sends an incredulous wave inside you.

And that's not all.

The strands left behind over the neck, kissing the shoulder, and covered in sweat as the muscles underneath them move when the arms- that you thought were definitely frail under all those expensive suits- take the weight of the entire body up.

Now as much as the biceps should have been distracting for your suddenly aware and observant eyes, they seem to dilute the lustre in front of what you see at the naked back exposed to you.

Lines running about, discoloured, uneven skin like dark valleys that the sweat beads take refuge in, running down their length.

_ What are they? Remnants of old cuts or burns _ . Or maybe something worse.

You don't know when that uncomfortable feeling returns in your chest because you're too engrossed in those scars. You don't even realise when Loki sees your reflection in the glass wall in front of him and turns around to question your presence. And just to add to it all, you do not even remember when your glasses fog up because the moment you're bringing yourself back to earth, Loki is already two steps close to you, his green- and somehow oceanic- eyes boring into you.

"Did you have a business here?"

He doesn't even try to hide the annoyance in his tone, neither does he acknowledges the flinch of your body at his voice like you're waking up from a trance.

"Nothing," you clear the hoarseness in your throat before whispering, "sorry. I uh...I was looking for the kitchen."

Not wasting a second standing there, you rush out to breathe and unintentionally run every possible scenario inside your head.

_ What the hell kind of fifty shades of fucked up is going on? _

Whatever it is, you tell yourself you want no part of it, already preparing the rest of the day inside your head as you retrace your steps and get ready to give your boss the night he wants.

* * *

 

"This is atrocious."

"That she unintentionally walked in on you working out?"

"She saw my scars, John. This is not something I am open to sharing with people."

Loki paces inside the one place that relaxes him- his observatory and library.

"I don't even like sharing it with you but this woman is making things harder for me," his tone is one smooth line but John can sense the fumes rising up in the air around him.

"Well, if I were there I would have told you to sit down and breathe but... clearly that's not happening."

Loki stops and turns to look at the screen with John's upper half giving him a casual shrug.

"All right. Okay," the psychologist clears his throat and sits up, "let's figure this out, shall we? Why does it matter that she saw what she saw? Do you think she will talk about your scars to someone?"

An uncomfortable twist of jaw later Loki crosses his arms. "She better not."

Loki takes a short lungful, a fine line crossing between his brows. "Though she doesn't seem like she would."

"And why is that?"

Loki turns to the screens. His hands go inside his pant pockets on their own as he sighs.

"I have a particular set of... features I look for in the people who work for me."

"...You mean to be adaptive and loyal to you?"

Loki can feel the smirk sitting right at the edge of his lips when he hears John's words.

A tsk escapes his lips before he takes a step towards the screen to slide back a winged chair, rest it right in the middle of John's field of vision, and settle down in it.

"Let's just cut to the chase then, shall we? You, John, are a man of intellect. I can presume you think you have me figured out."

It is John's turn to smile. But his only reflects kindness.

Closing his notebook, he sets it down on the table by his pen before easing back into his chair, resting his hands on his legs.

"I am here to hear you out. To help you work through whatever it is that troubles you. But you have to understand that once we start looking at the scars we might find wounds under them that are old and still haven't healed from the inside. So, the real question, Loki, is how much of yourself have  _ you _ dared to shine a light upon?"

* * *

 

"It's okay, Kira. Why don't you go? I will take care of this."

No matter how many times Robert says it, he cannot seem to get you away from the group at work, installing the final string of backyard lights.

"Yeah, just a minute," you mention as seriously as you did the other seven times.

But this time he runs out of excuses to get you inside, placing his hands on your arms before making you walk towards your side of the house.

"The guests are about to arrive in twenty minutes," he pleads softly.

"Good! Because I am saturated," you announce, letting him take most of your weight as he takes you inside. "And I think I look fine."

"Okay but please have something before the guests arrive. It's rude for the hostess to fall ill in the middle of festivities."

It's refreshing to hear when Robert doesn't force you to 'get ready' but it's a twist-of-your-stomach weird to hear him call you the hostess.

"No, I'm not-" and just as Loki's face flashes in your mind, you cannot help but consider the weight of his words- "...yeah. I guess I am the...hostess."

* * *

 

Fenrir does not like the idea of strangers in his house but he lets it pass once Ygritte takes him away to a place in the estate unknown to you with the bribe of his favourite delicacies.

Washing your face, you put some moisturiser on. A bit of mascara and you are good to go, hoping no one would notice the dark circles beneath your eyes, thanks to your glasses.

The first step into the hall opened to the guests and you are already feeling out of place in your maroon blouse and black Palazzo trousers.

Faces you had only seen in magazines and news are standing there with the elegance of a black swan, dressed in fabrics and cuts that you would never dare to dream of.

Most of them are admiring the artwork you took out from Loki's available inventory and diligently skimmed through their history before putting the best works up. By now you were modestly acquainted with the technique, the source of paints and the artists' inspiration behind those works; all but three of them.

"Great! I'm not the only one who has no idea why they're here."

A cheery feminine voice calls out from behind you and you have to turn at the scarcest sight of something jovial in this tight atmosphere building up around you.

The broad-rimmed glasses, dark hair and the stretched smile reflecting the perfect white lights up some part of your heart.

"Darcy Lewis?" The tide of excitement in your voice spills over the brim and you have the catch yourself and tell your lungs to breathe.

"Yup. That's me. Wait. Do I know you? Have we already met?"

You shake your head but don't bother calming down your already heating nerves. "No, we haven't. I'm Kira. I read about Jane Foster's work and your contribution to it. It's amazing. You're amazing."

_ Too much? _

You are trying to simmer down your brain before deciding to fry it completely for the embarrassment it just put you through right when you hear Darcy snort.

"Contribute? If by that you mean moved the equipment around, slept through a desert storm, threw curse words at those lazy government guys when they took away Jane's work, and all of that when I wasn't even getting paid, then yes. I am  _ that _ Darcy Lewis. And heck yeah I'm amazing," she winks and finger guns at you. "And Kira, you...how do you know Loki?"

_ Here comes the inevitable. _

"I'm his assistant."

Darcy blinks, takes a step back, scans you from head to toe before stepping closer than normal.

"Blink twice if you need my help to escape," she whispers, making you chuckle.

"No, I'm-I'm good. I knew what I was getting into."

This time her glare is patient and observant before she passes off a shrug.

"Suddenly you seem really hot to me."

You manage to give her a slight nod after the surprise has diluted a bit. “Thank you? And if I may ask, if you're so sceptical about Loki then why come here at all?"

Now, this seems to bring back that signature smile on her face.

"Because it's Loki," she simply shrugs. "He might be an ex-madman of sorts but everyone knows he has an air about him. Me, personally am-"

"Here for the food?"

Loki's voice comes quite close behind you, freezing you right where you stand.

"You better stop sending me those emails before I act on my urge to parcel you a dead crow."

You and- unbeknownst to you- Loki furrow your brows and tilt your head in mild surprise.

Darcy's eyes go wide in surprise. "Jane. That was Jane. That's what she said when I was leaving for here."

Saying that she slowly moves away and blends into the crowd of guests to do what was here to do.

_ Please don't say anything. Please don't say anything. Please don't s- _

"We need to talk."

Your heart wants to jump out if your chest and fall flat on the floor. Instead, you just turn and face him with a forced smile on your face.

"You have guests here-"

"Who are more interested in every distraction you've come up with."

The green in his eyes seems shallow; superficial.

"And I'm in charge of that everything tonight," you declare softly before walking away to look for an excuse to busy yourself in.

Robert's men have eyes everywhere while Ygritte has help to cater to the needs of the guests and neither of them want you to worry your mind with anything for the rest of the night no matter how hard you try.

Giving up, you try to find your way back to your side of the house to get five minutes to compose yourself and come back with some preparedness to interact with all the people that were your responsibility for the night.

* * *

 

The silence on the east side is welcoming as you walk through the connecting corridor, smiling at the fish in their now lit-up pond and observing the flowers sleeping all around them.

Your space, at last.

"Nice quarters you've got here."

The little jumpscare you feel at the voice is far less concerning than the clench in your gut when you turn around to see the person who has followed you here.

"VK," you address the man dressed in blue that shines under the dim lights of your living room nursing a glass of whiskey in his hand, "can I help you?"

He simply nods.

"Yes, please. I am curious. Very curious as to how-" he takes a step closer to you, making to retreat- "did a newbie like you-" he moves closer further, forcing you to step away till you hit the glass- "end up soooo close to a man like Loki?"

“I mean PA, yeah sure, whatever. But it hasn’t even been six months and you have created quite a stir since your arrival, haven’t you?”

You want to slide to the side away from him, but his arm blocks your way right as you think of doing it. With him dipping his head closer to you, you can smell the alcohol in his breath, turning off all the alarms at once.

You want to speak, tell him to get away from you but you stay frozen, your mind going white, the blaring sirens inside your head drowning every other sense of judgement.

"How did you-" his face is closer to your head now, his nostrils taking in the smell of mint from your recently shampooed hair- "manage to get his people to turn to you?"

"VK, please-" your voice withers away as he puts his glass down on the table with a loud bang.

"I see the way Robert looks at you. Even that maid. They look at you as if you're some...some delicate work of art they should protect. Is this what you really want, Kira?"

The second his fingers try to move the loose strand of your hair away from your face, your body twitches away, trying to melt into the glass behind you. "Because I'm sure I can show the world-"

"That's enough."

The voice is a long lost familiar that surprises you inside out before it turns into a tide of relief as VK backs away from you to turn and see the source of interruption.

Anthony Edward Stark stands right across you, killing VK with just his looks.

"Now, get out of here before I kick your ass to the moon and trust me when I say this your boss would not mind even for a second," Stark declares ever so blankly, throwing daggers at the excuse state of a man standing in front of him. "In fact, this would be the first time we would agree on something."

It's not a surprise to watch VK dumbfounded at the sight of the most influential man on earth and scurry off into the direction where he came from, trying to make sense all the way of what just happened.

"Thank you, Mr Stark," you finally breathe, blinking away the tears as fast as you can.

Tony still has his eyes out for the figure walking away from the corridor and does not turn back to you till he is sure that man won't be coming back here.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

His words- along with this parental anger in his eyes- catch you off guard.

"...I'm sorry?"

"Loki's assistant? Really, Kira? You were making models of renewable energy sources for the UN and writing tear-jerking poetry the last I saw you. And now you're-" he vaguely gestures at everything around him.

You try to settle down your accelerated heartbeat to come to terms with what you just heard.

"You...you remember me?"

The flinch over his face seems like you just threw an insult at him.

"Of course, I remember you. You were twelve. It's not easy to forget a peaceful kid who took care of the entire battalion that had come to visit Stark Industries. I should've given you a medal for that."

He goes on to tell you what he remembers from your visit as he pours you a glass of water and sits down on the sofa beside you.

"I thought I was invisible," you mock a laugh for your own amusement.

"Well, you suck at being invisible to the people who have their eyes out for people like you," he states matter-of-factly. "But seriously though, what are you doing working for Loki."

You smile and shrug.

"I'm...working for the one company that seems to care about the people here, Mr Stark."

"Oh, sweethe-"

"Yes, I know all about the past. I just..."

You do not have words.

Tony can see the light glisten in the corner of your eyes.

"Kira," his voice is softer than you remember, "is everything okay?"

You bite your lip to stop the upsurge of emotions swirling inside you on the thought of the man you looked up to nearly all your childhood sitting down next to you to ask you if everything was okay.

Tony is way too familiar with the look in your eyes and it doesn't take him more than two seconds to decide.

"Tell you what," he looks at his watch before turning to look at the entrance to your side, "there's still an hour before dinner. How about you spill everything out and then we make a run for everything edible your puny boss has thrown his money at tonight. And we can make fun of the paintings that I do not get. Especially that piece with just black sticks and paints sploshed like blood."

Your furrowed brows de-stress themselves all of a sudden as a light laugh leaves your lungs. "Oh thank God! I thought I was the only one."

* * *

 

It is a relief to be done with the greetings when he knows half the people here have shown up just for the sake of curiosity and the other half did not bother turning up.

"I told you he wouldn't come," Solaris brings Loki a glass of champagne. "T'Challa is quite obstinate when it comes to the people he does not trust."

"Standing on solid ground. I somehow like that better than him showing up here and stealing the show from Stark."

The glasses clink and the champagne is downed immediately.

"Ooh!" She exclaims, "easy there mister. I don't want the host to be running on booze while his guests look for an excuse to entertain themselves. And the world."

Loki rolls his eyes at her. "Just because you don't see me drink doesn't mean I can't hold my liquor, Solaris. I just don't like how it tastes."

Solaris cocks her brow at him and a tender smile grows on her lips. "Wow. You are the second person to say that to me tonight," she whispers, downing her own glass. "So, were you able to do it?"

"Do what?"

"Whatever's the reason you threw this party and collected these people here."

Loki questions her with just his stare.

"Oh do not give me that look, Loki. You know what I was before I started working for you. I know you don't do anything without reason. So out with it."

And just like that, the blankness morphs into a satisfactory smirk.

"I think so, yes."

The band in the garden outside lets the jazz fade away to give the stage to Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.

"Where's Kira?"

Solaris' smirk is hidden from Loki's view as she takes another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by and turns her features to ones who have not a clue of a single thing.

"Um...I saw her chatting with Stark a couple of minutes ago. By the way, he hugged her, I feel like they are acquaintances."

Two seconds and she is already unwrapping another layer.

"Which you already know," she states more for herself than Loki, her eyes narrowing in all the suspicious thoughts. "Didn't stay here then. I think she went out into your big grassy lawn that way."

"Leaving the guests unattended?"

"She's interacted with them tonight more than you have in your lifetime. Now go make sure she's okay out there."

* * *

 

The air under the open sky is cool and makes it easier for you to walk further down the stony path. Not to mention the treat that is the starry sky above, glittering with no possible end.

A small structure stands in the midst of the plain field that stretches for miles and is not as wide as it is tall- almost making you compare it to a tower.

Curiosity is one alluring creature that sings for you to get closer to the structure that has a door and two windows on either side secured with iron bars.

The door has no handles and you have to search for a way to get in till you notice the biometrics systems attached in the wall to your right.

_ Oh, what the hell. _

_ I already am in some sort of trouble with this guy. Might as well make it two. _

Your hand and iris are scanned and much to your surprise the screen brings up your name with the message 'welcome' with the sound of the door clicking open.

You step inside and have to catch your breath at the site of wooden shelves rising from the ground to the top with nothing but books. The smell of old pages fills your lungs and calms your nerves better than any drug. The skylight above lets the stars peep in and you wonder what this place looks like during a full moon.

A desk made purely of rosewood sits by the wall in front of you overlooking the garden outside, housing a makeshift desk, coarse blank pages and a couple of fountain pens.

You let your fingers feel every little thing over the surface as you walk in awe of the things unfolding around you.

Old books on biology, ancient texts of forgotten civilizations, planet's geography, world's history, collection of diaries of war prisoners, works of fiction from around the world- there is seemingly nothing that has been forgotten by this room.

And another one just leads to the stars.

A telescope taller than you takes up half the space in the room and you have to step up the stairs leading to the platform where it stands to admire it closely.

"Well, I'll be damned," you whisper to yourself as you walk over the netted iron flooring in your boots.

"Careful with that," Loki announces out of the blue and you find yourself losing all sense of balance in his cat-like presence.

Your one hand tries to grab onto the iron support bars while the other looks for something over the body of the telescope that just so happens to be polished to perfection. Neither things help you in time as your ankle twists and you collide with something sharp and hard on your way down.

A groan escapes you.

_ Well, that was graceful. _

The stars seem to leave streaks behind them till your head finally clears itself and you see Loki's face right over yours, a scrunch between his brows as his green eyes are looking at you in some deep thought.

_ Must be thinking of how I put all the ballerinas to shame. _

Even if you want to tell the sassy part of your brain to cut it, it somehow eases the blow on your ego.

Moving your arms to your side you prepare to get up only to feel Loki's fingers wound around them.

"Don't. You'll end up falling again," he speaks softly but there is an edge of 'how careless can you be' somewhere in there that leaves a papercut on your feelings.

The heat builds up and rises from your chest to your neck and gradually to your cheeks.

It's hard to keep your eyes locked with his. It's harder to look anywhere else. The tiniest grooves on his skin are the prettiest site in this light. The strands of his hair are like the darkness of this night falling down to grab you; in complete contrast to the paleness of his skin.

_ Were you noticing the sharpness of his cheekbones now? Was he even human? _

_ No one is supposed to have such god-like features. Especially not a man who was once insane enough to do the things he did. _

The same man now sits on his knees by your side to help you feel better.

"It's better now," you declare as you try to rise up.

Loki hands support one of your arms to get you on your feet.

"Oh dear," he breathes out.

"What?"

You turn around for an answer and feel a light sway inside your head. Fortunately, Loki is quick to grab your shoulder. Unfortunately, it's the wrong shoulder.

"That," he answers as you wince at his touch and feel pain be replaced by horror as he retrieves his stained fingers and walks you down the stairs.

"You're bleeding?"

He really has to give you the look before he even acknowledges your words.

"No, Kira.  _ You  _ are bleeding."

Taking you out of the observatory, he points you at the cosy couch- that even has a blanket- by the window in the room of books.

"Sit."

You do as you're told.

Loki takes off his suit jacket and puts it over the back of the winged chair before folding his sleeves up and walking towards the study table.

_ Were his arms always this...nice? _

You watch as he loosens his tie to undo his collar button and bend down to open the drawers and take out what seems like a first aid kit and come back to you.

You do not even know when your hand tucks away your hair behind your ear as you try to hide the heat increasing up over your face, dreading that he might be reading your thoughts.

"Take off your shirt."

"Hm?"

Alarm bells should be going off throughout your existence right now but all you feel is a sudden rush of a tide of a freshwater lake all over your body.

"It's ruined."

You look at your shirt, then at Loki and back at your shirt before you shift and turn to one side on the couch to unbutton it.

_ What bra am I wearin- oh it's the black one. That'll do. _

You feel the couch dip behind you. So does your heartbeat.

The shirt is off, resting in your hands. Your fingers move over the thread torn apart when you feel him pushing your hair aside from your shoulder. You help with that bit and place the bunch in the front.

It is hard to sit straight through the peaking tension as neither of you says a word while you mentally prepare yourself not to jump this time when you feel a foreign touch against your skin.

What you don't know is that Loki is trying to avoid the same thing.

The coldness of the wet cotton comes in tiny pecks on your back, nothing less than little wet kisses of morning dew.

"The cut's not that deep. It should heal within a week."

His voice is tender. So is his touch. So sweet that when you no longer feel the cotton on your skin, it leaves a tiny sting in some part of your soul that suddenly lights up when the surface feels a cool blow over itself. Every part of your skin feels goosebumps at his mere action. Some parts of you don't want him to stop.

One part suggests something further beyond your rationale and you have to snap out of the trance of your own imagination.

You still don't realise how tightly your fingers are wringing the deep red fabric in your hand, pressing down further when another blow of cool air lands on the burning wound.

"I'm sorry for barging in on you like that this morning."

Your voice shivers. You cannot hide it no matter how hard you try. The fieriness that is building up around your neck and someplace else is making it worse. So much worse.

"I didn't mean to."

A ripping sound goes off behind you before you feel a bandage being pressed lightly over your wound.

"You caught me off-guard this morning," he finally speaks and the words seem so alien from his mouth.

"I guess we're even now," you mutter, undoing the broken red threads.

Loki looks at your reflection in glass protecting his most treasured collection. He should not be staring at your unaware face like that and yet he cannot look away.

It is one thing to be obligated to take care of you as your employer but it is another when Tony Stark himself comes over to Loki to give him an earful about taking care of you 'ten times better than you are thinking right now'.

And why wouldn't he? You had given him everything he wanted to get out of this party tonight. You had served him Tony Stark on a platter.

"I should go before I break something else," you try to joke, bringing Loki out of his train of thought.

"Wait," he instinctively responds by disappearing up a flight of stairs you did not notice before and coming back with a crisp deep blue shirt.

"Wear this."

The colour seems to compliment you and it doesn't look borrowed once you have tucked it inside your trousers.

But as luck would have it, Stark and Solaris know the difference the moment you walk back into their field of view.

* * *

 

"You know, if you want I can talk to Pepper and she can take a look at your resume."

"I'm fine, Mr Stark. You've already done so much for me."

"Absolutely. I've done more than enough by giving your science project an A+. How could you possibly exploit me after that?"

You burst into giggles and Tony's face lights up on watching you like that.

Even Loki stands mesmerised as he pretends to talk to a foreign ambassador while his eyes keep going back on you.

"Here," Tony brings forward a small black velvet box, "this is for you."

He doesn't tell you the contents inside the box till you have taken it in your hands.

"No takebacks," he quickly announces and you open the lid and have to suppress an aching gasp.

"No." You are scared.

"Yes." He is excited.

"This is too much."

"I swear it's not."

"Mr Stark, it's literally a flower made of stone!"

"Semi-precious stone, mind you. Okay. I'm off now. Don't show it to your boss. He's a cat. He likes glowy things. Don't lose it either. I'm not getting you another one."

* * *

 

"Listen, you obnoxious diva," you begin, rubbing your eyes to wash away at least some tiredness, "I have had a very long day. I am tired. I am barely able to stand. I am hurt. So, I need to lie down and get some sleep. And for that, I need your furry ass out of here."

Fenrir looks at you blankly before rolling over to the other side.

"Son of a bitch," you growl at him before pulling the duvet from under him and plopping down in your bed.

Your breath eases and so does your heavy head.

"It won't be a bad idea to take up Mr Stark's offer, would it, Fenrir?" You whisper, your eyes looking at something beyond the ceiling above you.

"It would be nice, I guess. Working for him in New York."

Silence.

A distant command of Fenrir's name comes from the halls on the west end to which Fenrir replies with a tired irritated whine.

"Fenrir, come out here before I kick you out of the house," Loki's voice echoes from the other end of the corridor, making the wolf sit up next to you.

"Hmmm," you mutter under your breath, watching the wolf leap and rushed out of the door to follow Loki's voice, "maybe some other day."


	8. Discoveries

The morning breeze saturated with the cold and smell of dewy grass and flowers tip-toes inside your room with the grace of a professional ballerina. Your bare back, with the loss of the duvet's hug, can feel the sweet kisses she leaves all over your susceptible skin. A turn over the bed and you can feel the shift in the warmth of the duvet surrounding your naked form. Your arms sense the disparate temperature over the other side of the bed, forcing you to open your eyes and find it empty.

_ Where did you go? _

As if to answer your thoughts, the sound of the shower running in your bathroom comes as soothing waves, bringing with it the tiny fishes that tickle you while they eat away the muck on your feet you never thought you had.

It is a task to get up from this cocoon of warmth but the thought of what may be on the other side of the wall makes it easier to be up on your legs and strut towards the door.

The door clicks open and you can already feel the heat inside the bathroom the moment you step in. The shower is turned to cold but the vapours leaving the surface of the body that stands under it are visible from where you stand. The glass door to the shower temple is opened and you step in, too entranced by the muscles peaking from beneath the scars that mar the otherwise flawless perfection. The rivulets on that pale skin make it glow in its entirety save for the parts where the scars rest. The strong pressure of the water perfectly disguises the head with its white foam, letting you focus more on the liquid snakes slithering down that naked back.

And just like that, your fingers are tracing them; both the snakes and the scars- too enchanted for your own good. Your touch makes the muscles flinch and the body turn, bringing his face out of the white foam to watch you with his ocean eyes while his hands wrap themselves instinctively around yours and take them behind your back as he softly bares his teeth at you when he brings you close to him. The push from his chest is enough to drive you into the wet wall behind, the cold tiles rubbing against your surfaces, letting you know the depth of pressure and- somewhere deep down inside you- the height of pleasure.

The blue glows lustfully green in the soft yellow lights above and around the two of you. Your breaths are ragged while his chest rises and falls with graceful movements of a calm ocean wave gently rocking a pirate ship.

"Say it."

The words are soft but the ripple that they carry holds the strength to tear you to shreds on the inside. The vibrations from your soul's core are visible on your skin to the onlooker as he tries to test them for himself when he brings his face closer to yours.

"Say it," his lips move in a whisper right in front of yours and you have to focus all your strength in keeping yourself balanced on your two legs as they begin to shudder.

"Loki."

His name is a whisper of a prayer to call unto him from your lips while the stray drops from his hair, head and chest fall over your breasts.

His arms that now rest on either side of you seem to be holding him in place as he restrains himself from doing something he should not.

_ But oh! Even the Gods do not have the strength to keep away from the temptations that they secretly want to worship themselves. _

His lips gently collide with yours, pushing you back into the wall as his hands let go of yours to grab your heated hips and pull them closer to his already primed length.

Your hands find their place around his neck and once the chains inside your mind let go, the force with which you pull him close is unknown even to you.

_ He loves it. _

_ He craves it. _

And so, his fingers tease your skin when they move down to grab your perfect thighs in their firm grasp and lift you up, your legs locking him in place while his body does the same with you by keeping you against the cold tiles.

Neither of you wants to let go of the lips when the tongues dance in harmony and moans are gulped down with pure contentment.

He stops.

You growl.

But he continues to look at you as you feel his hands snaking down your wet caverns, the dark greens nearly hitting the edge as they watch you gasp at his mere touch.

"Yes."

You cannot stop yourself. Your eyes are already closing, your walls threatening to give up, your fingers digging into his skin as he strokes your walls right where they are bound to light up and gyrate.

And he lets go.

Only to come back with his length pushing inside you this time.

.

The jolt that your body goes through when your eyes pop open hits hard when you find yourself lying in your bed. It reverberates harder when you sit up and feel the morning pleasantness chilling every little bead of sweat over your surface.

The bed is empty. The doors are closed. The birds are chirping. The sun is up.

Everything is as it's supposed to be.

Everything except your senses that are still trying to get used to the idea of you having woken up from a way too realistic sex dream with your boss.

"Good morning, Kira!"

Ygritte's voice from the living room makes you jump.

_ Holy shit! _

"Morning, um... Ygritte."

The sounds of her picking up the remnants of last night while dusting off your space are both welcoming and a bit intrusive.

"What would you like to have for breakfast, Kira?"

"...I'm good with sandwiches."

You can hear her pick up your laptop from the floor to place it on the desk.

Picking up the bottle of water on your nightstand, your lips run for a quick gulp to moisten that dried up throat.

"Something refreshing and green or meaty and juicy?"

And all the water goes down the wrong way because of the scandalous imagery your brain comes up with. Again.

.

Fenrir lounges on the refreshing grass, judging you without shame as you eat a vegetable kebab sandwich with greens that are too crispy for someone who has survived on two-days worth of groceries for an entire week.

"I feel I might hurt my teeth eating this lettuce," you mutter to yourself while Fenrir tilts his head with a scoff and a whining growl before trying to push your feet away so he can do a full stretch.

"Shut up, you whiney wolf," you hiss softly at him- which he completely ignores - biting into the deliciously minty kebabs and tomatoes while trying to keep the lettuce in place with your teeth.

"Don't forget we have to leave tonight."

Now it is completely normal for you to find yourself in situations where you lock eyes with a complete stranger at a restaurant while trying to fit a burger in your mouth and failing to do so. What makes this situation worse is to watch your boss and his pet wolf look at you with sheer amusement in their glittery eyes as the lettuce hangs from your mouth before you try to find a seemingly graceful way to fit the entire thing in your mouth with your fingers.

"I've made the arrangements," you finally speak after the green chunk of cool crisp finally goes down your throat.

"Did you get Gustav to ready my suits in time?"

"All three of them are ready to fly off with the rest of your luggage."

"What about the arrangements for the stay?"

"I talked to Friday and she's assured us of our stay at the expo for the week. She's Mr Stark's assistant."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

You turn to face Loki for the first time during the day, catching the man dressed in the deepest hue of the blue t-shirt over his chest while the black trousers compliment his legs. And other parts.

"What about your dress up for the expo dinners, darling?"

_ Darling. _

The shimmers of this unexplained pain carefully intertwined with a latent string of pleasure pulling through your subconscious do not go unnoticed by your existence when you feel your legs shudder.

"I uh...I don't..."

Your words do not come out as the sleeves are rolled up and the tie goes away to let the collar be unbuttoned.

"Call Gustav," Loki picks up an unmarked sack kept by the end of the porch and puts it over his back, "he'll fix something up for you."

Without another word, he walks off on a trail somewhere in the estate you do not want your mind to wander in this heated condition.

"Gustav."

Forcing yourself out of your own punishing trance, you call the man of every hour to help you out.

.

"You all right?" Robert asks you the moment you step out into the living room, dressed for the afternoon you'd planned.

"Yeah, why?"

"You said you'd be out in twenty minutes. Ygritte was worried about you."

"Oh," you breathe out, tucking a side of your hair behind your ears, "I had an issue...with my bathroom."

"..."

"Couldn't find myself to walk inside," you whisper to yourself, chugging down a glass of water without touching it with your lips.

"Something broke?" Robert's brows furrow in concern.

"Yeah," you mutter as you walk out towards the front door, "me. I'm broke."

“What?”

“What?”

.

"I have to say it is good to see you in not-formals!"

Sam's chirpiness is a drizzle of fresh waves as he makes you chuckle.

"Wait. Really?"

"Yeah," he nods, his eyes stealing a quick look at Robert walking five steps behind you, "I've only ever seen you leave your house to go to work."

"Huh," you pretend to wonder out loud, "so you've tried to see me every time I leave my place?"

The heat evidently reaches his ears as he fumbles through the words, making it harder for you to suppress your chuckles.

"Welcome to the Violet Springs, Madame, Sir."

The greeting by the hostess helps break out of the rush of embarrassment pooling up through Sam's skin that you can conveniently compliment in his summer blue shirt and sand trousers, playing well with your sky blue sundress.

"Yes, um," Sam tries to clear his throat, "we have a reservation under Sam Diaz."

The hostess barely takes a minute to look up the name before taking you and him to the seats by the edge of the restaurant with the view of the city below you.

Sam takes a moment to bask in the glory of the concrete world around him while you look for Robert and find him standing on the other edge with a wide view of the entire hall.

_ I still don't get why he has assigned himself to me. The only reason I'll be requiring his expertise is when I step on my own foot. _

And like a note struck from the instrument of epiphany, you sit straight and take out your phone to send a quick text before giving all your attention to your neighbour.

_ If this little date goes bad, you're responsible for getting me out of here. _

"Before we begin," you start, catching every bit of Sam's senses, "I’m letting you to know we are splitting the bill and that is final."

Words on your phone light up against the otherwise asleep screen-  _ That *is* my job, Miss _

"We haven't even started talking yet! Or had anything to drink!" Sam brings out of this shared internal joke from the man you can't see smiling from across the room.

"That's exactly why," you chuckle.

You can see his brown eyes take your features in. You can sense it even when you look away, appearing to smudge something off the wine glass kept in front of you.

_ Wait. This place has wine glasses. Oh, it's expensive, isn't it? For expensive people. _

"You look amazing today, by the way."

Robert watches as you go blank and blink at Sam in return for something the boy said to you. He has seen that look on your face- like you are lost somewhere for a second, trying to find the weight of whatever you witness with your senses. You've done this before, in his boss' presence more times than he can count. Only this time, you don't try to busy your hands and tear away your gaze as if you're not supposed to be in the presence of the person in front of you.

.

The grub hoe hits the cooler layer of the soil hard before Loki finally gets up and drops the tool away from him.

Sweat beads are teased by the afternoon breeze which is comparatively cooler than what the city is witnessing at this moment, thanks to the generous amount of trees surrounding him.

Picking up his shirt lying on the chunk of stone two feet away from the shallow plot he has dug, he allows the cotton fabric to soak up the sweat from everywhere he is exposed.

"Lemonade, Master Loki," Ygritte's call comes right on time as she sets down the tray on the table made of stone under an old sacred fig. Fenrir is not far behind.

"Nice weather for a Saturday," she hums as she uses tongs to pick up the spherical ice cubes from the bucket and masterfully drop them in the tall glass before pouring the jug of lemonade blessed with mint leaves.

Fenrir walks over to the freshly dug up plot to smell the wet earth before putting his paw over the cool dirt.

"Get away from there, Fenrir," Loki commands without looking at the wolf, who growls in protest before coming to the table to demand his share of the treats.

Before he can bring his nose up the surface to sniff the contents of the jug, Loki shoves his face away.

"Only the wolves who work hard get to have a feast," he announces to the enormous body of fur staring at him with nothing but animosity right now.

"Go play with Kira."

Fenrir slumps down and lets the grass rub his wiggling back, making Loki's eyes reflect disgust as he downs his glass.

"Miss Kira isn't home, Master Loki," Ygritte responds as she pours him a refill.

She does not get a response back from Loki but can see his fingers twitch before he goes for the glass and empties it again.

"Thank you, Ygritte," he greets flatly before dragging the sack towards the pit and scattering its contents- which look like sesame seed-sized violet pellets- all over the freshly dug ground.

"Make sure everything is ready before nine tonight," he throws into the air for the woman to catch as she walks back while Fenrir lays in the grass and shade to watch his master work.

.

"I..."

"You don't like wine?"

The look Sam and the waiter give you is that of pure betrayal before one of them composes themselves.

"That's okay we can order something else," Sam chimes.

"I've tried to get used to the taste but..." The sentence hangs mid-air as you give a light shrug as a loose apology. "I'm good with Long Island, though."

Their brows quirk as Sam nods in approval while the waiter's lips stretch just a little at one corner.

"I'll have a Caipiroska," Sam declares as he closes the menu.

"You can order wine, if you want," you try to persuade him as his liquid honey eyes seem to get struck by something new whenever he looks at you- something you do not seem to get used to.

He is about to say something when a heavy voice filled with aged sophistication fills the air around you.

"Good afternoon, young lads. How are you liking the place?"

You reluctantly look up from the food menu to watch a middle-aged man with a well- groomed beard looking and soft honey eyes with flecks of deeper darker brown scattered in them. From the looks of his effortless blue suit that went with the theme of the restaurant, he seems like the manager here.

_ This is an expensive place. _

"It's nice," you feel generous for the lack of experience in settings like this.

"It's brilliant," Sam beams.

The smile stretches from within the manager's beard as he clasps his hands together. For some reason, it even feels like a smile you'd seen somewhere before.

"Wonderful then," he continues, "if I may be so bold to suggest, try our Asian cuisine today and while your server gets back to you with your drinks, take a look at the new art installed in our Galleria for the New Foundations charity."

You turn towards Sam with a glimmer in your eye and a childlike smirk on your face. "This sounds fun."

.

All clothes are dumped on the observatory floor as the dirt-laden feet take the stairs towards a lone room and come back with a towel in one hand and swimming trunks cajoling the perfect shape of the rear that walk out of the place and towards the glass building that houses nothing but a pool and its required necessities.

Leaving the towel on the lounging seats, he dives into the cold water with the grace of a dolphin and intention of tiger, letting his body ride like a free wave till he has to come to the surface to breathe before going down again.

At first it's a blur. The shape. But the more time Loki spends inside the water, the more he can see a figure adroitly floating in the pool with enchanted shimmers all around it.

The hair takes the shape of whatever it wants to, going graciously wild as it lifts the veil from the face.

_ Your  _ face.

_ Your  _ glittering eyes that look through his soul.

He stops just to float towards you, stands in the deep waters to look at the wound he helped take care of while internally appreciating the view of watching you untethered.

Of  _ imagining  _ you untethered.

Just as his mind realises this- a second too sooner- he pushes to the surface to breathe. Hard.

He stills in the water around him, questioning himself, his sanity, wondering where you came from; out of the blue, curious as to why you, bewildered at the thoughts slowly scratching a surface he knows is not there.

_ Curse you, Kira. _

And with that contemplation left in the air, he goes free on his back, back into the water.

.

"If it's alright with you, Mr-"

"Harrison."

"Mr Harrison," you continue, "I'd like to talk to my boss about this charitable event so that the company can do its bit to help out in any way."

The manager, Harrison, smiles with his teeth out.

_ Why is that smile so familiar? _

"Brilliant idea!" Harrison laughs.

"Hold on, let me get your contact details." Opening your phone, you jot down his number from his visiting card that marks the hotel's sigil and his designation.

"May I get your full name?" You ask him, trying to open the save option quickly and get over with this to get back to your date, who seems to be shaking with restlessness now.

"Yes. It's Harrison Wardwell."

With one strike of a peaceful clink echoing inside your head, you have travelled back to a dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn over the windows because the sun is too bright. The edge of the desk is lined up right with the window, with books and notebooks scattered over the wooden structure. Plushies crowd the bed as someone lies under the sheet on the side of the bed that is nearer to the window.

There are no birds chirping outside. Why would there be? It's a hot afternoon. There is no creak of the door opening because it is never shut. The footsteps are quieter than a cat's. The fingers are rubbing against the sweaty palm before they touch the edge of the bed. The movement is slow but that does not stop the hand from disappearing under the sheets.

The phone drops from your hand over the tiled floor.

"Oh, sorry," escapes your trembling lips as you bend down to pick it up, using the bare seconds to compose yourself before getting up.

"It's Wardwell with a 'W'."

The voice pierces through your throbbing skull.

"Yeah," you nod without bringing your eyes to look back at him, "I got it. I'll go back now."

He wishes you a great time but your body and mind do not register anything.

You do not even realise when you've come back sat down on the table till Sam is fighting for your attention to ask you about your choice of entrées. The stickiness on your palm and the heat radiating from behind your eyes are warning you for what is about to come. And so, you do what you do best.

"I'm sorry, Sam," you blurt out as you get up, catching Sam's face fall, "I'm not feeling well. I'll have to go back. I'm really sorry."

Robert is already on his heels, walking towards you, sensing trouble from the way you stand.

"Yeah, no," Sam stammers, "it's okay. Is everything okay? Anything I can do? Want to get some air?"

"No, no. I'd rather go home," you mention, already picking up your purse and walking away, "thank you for understanding."

You're nearly at the door, your breaths shallow, your back marred with sweat, almost ready to collapse when Robert takes hold of you before getting into the elevator.

The doors close for the ground floor but Robert does not let you go.

"Water?" He simply puts.

You shake your head, your breathing growing rougher while your nails are beginning to dig into his jacket.

"Do you have medication?" He doesn't stop.

You nod your head furiously.

"It's back home."

The tears stinging your eyes are just sitting over the edge, waiting for one light push.

"Would you like to lie down somewhere?" The softness in his voice is soothing but the idea brings back the face of the man.

"I want to go home," you breathe out with all your strength.

Robert's concern takes another shape over his features. The shape of resolve. Carefully wrapping his arms over your back to help you stand straight he walked you to the entrance.

"Then let's get you home."

.

The crisp black shirt tries it's hardest to flutter on Loki's back but the buttons in front stop the wind from taking advantage of the breathing fabric and the body it has been wrapped around.

The walk back to the house is a languid one with Fenrir by his side- something both seem to be enjoying this suddenly breezy noon with a grey cloud approaching from the city side.

The French doors are still slid open when he reaches the back to watch the hazy sun reflect streaks of wetness from your eyes to your chin as you rush towards your part of the house in clothing he has never seen you in.

Loki's gait is composed, though the grip on the bag of his sweat-soaked clothes grows tight.

"Robert," he calls out to the man in charge of your security, who is refraining himself from following you to make sure you're okay, "a word."

.

The rumble of thunder outside is not welcomed by Fenrir, who howls at the black clouds and lightning streaks to drive them away.

The cold breeze travels inside to whirl around the lounge, swinging around every little furniture piece.

Loki turns off the light to his study and walks out, feeling the playful current over his neck even from here.

"Ygritte," he shouts, but never condescendingly, walking down the hallway, "you know Fenrir will soil his paws in the dirt outside and then you will have to cl-"

He turns the corner to have every authoritative atom in his voice die down when his eyes lock to your figure asleep in the living room just where the winds are blowing in.

With your laptop still on, your diary untraditionally left open, your phone continuously buzzing with messages, he figures you dozed off while working.

_ 'She had a panic attack, sir. One moment she was talking to the manager and next when she came back at the table, she was pale.' _

Peace.

_ 'No, sir. That boy had nothing to do with it. He is a gentleman. I ran a background check on him just to be safe.' _

You are at peace.

_ 'I have never seen her go through something like this before either, sir. Something must have triggered it. She was fine five minutes earlier.' _

Sleeping without any worries. Floating in some dream, he thinks. A beautiful one, he prays.

Your hair, usually tied up, strays loose, partially covering your cheeks while moving to the tunes of the pleasant air. Your lips are slightly apart, one sure sign of how deep the sleep is. Your glasses hang awkwardly over your nose, almost making the man smile at the unintentionally delicate, purely appealing picture you've painted.

The gust of wind coming from the open doors forces you to bring your body close to yourself to ward off the cold and without any forewarning, Loki's body is already moving to slide the glass close, giving one snap of his finger and pointing to the floor near his feet to bring Fenrir inside without so much as a squeak.

The lightning outside the glass lights up his face, illuminating this deep ocean of green in his eyes as he blinks with a tender thought before slowly making a one-eighty to stand right at the back of the sofa where you lay.

One step and he can see your arm and shoulders move with your gentle breathing. One more and he watches this side of your face already sinking in some dream.

_ Know your lines, Loki. _

His fingers twitch at the thought. He looks around for a sign of help but gets none. So, one lungful of air later, his hands lightly brush away your hair from your face, making sure they never touch your skin.

The thumb and index place themselves securely around the edges of the frame of your glasses before they are pulled away with commendable patience. Even the lungs are allowed to breathe only when he has snapped the temples in.

It is hard for his eyes to break away from your face but he does so unwillingly to bend over the sofa from here he stands to place the glasses on the coffee table in front of you, his fingers accidentally brushing your exposed waist.

The second it takes his nerves to realise what kind of contact was made, you wake up with a gasp and a withered moan.

Loki cannot understand what he is watching for a moment there.

Red eyes looking around in unadulterated horror, lips trembling with the intensity of a cracking winter, fingers digging into the fabric of the sofa you lie on, breaths shallower than the pit he dug this morning.

But the worst of the thump in his heartbeat comes when you turn to look at him with the look of a victim of dreadful deception. A quick breath is taken in by the parted lips of Loki, the man of the multi-million empire who bows to no one, to bring himself to explain himself to you.

"Is he here?"

The words on the edge of his tongue stare at you with a tingling shock.

"...what?"

A single tear falls from your eye over the cheeks heated for all the wrong reasons.

"That man," your words come out broken and wounded, similar to the look in your eyes, "is he-is he here?"

Something inside his chest rips apart and comes off and he has no idea what it is or how to put it back up.

"I... it's just me," he finally speaks, the confusion along with this unknown searing pain piled up between his brows, almost regretting saying it the moment those words leave his mouth.

"Oh, thank God," you wheeze through the shiver in your throat, striking the man again with your words, "thank God."

He can see you struggling with your breathing while your eyes still go out to make out the shadows you don't trust.

"Kira," he finally speaks, bringing your attention to him with this soothing composure in his voice, "look at me."

So you do.

"Whoever he is, isn't here. He will never be."

Lightning lights up the green in his eyes, showing him in a brilliant light.

Like a natural reflex, you nod in response for the assurance.

"Go get some sleep," he speaks softly, "we have to leave in seven hours."

Your head turns towards the golden base clock before getting up and walking to the East wing.

Loki doesn't move from where he stands till he sees you walk down the corridor, turn on your lights for a few minutes and then turn them off.

Fenrir is shifting his weight between his paws before Loki finally tells him to go and he dashes to where you went.

The cellphone is already out and the phone is ringing on the other side.

"Yes, Sir?" The familiar Scottish accent drips through the earpiece.

"You said she talked to the manager. Who is he?"

A two-second pause. "A Harrison Wardwell, sir. Do you want me to-"

"I need everything on that man."

Thunder rumbles violently, rattling the strongest doors and windows of the house.

"Every. Single. Thing."


	9. It's A Different Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...a little late. Apologies for that. I was sick while on a break so that sucked. But I'm here now. :D

The one time you like the city you have hated so much for so long, you are leaving it for another place- continent, in fact- and are somehow surprised by the streaks of flawless orange, red, pink and purple paint the sky the most colourful for the first time. The roads are empty when the car leaves from The Hidden Grim. The forests give way to barren lands outside the city walls and the concrete jungle is but a side view to your journey to the airport.

Robert was supposed to play the role of your chauffeur till the terminal but you are being escorted by another man today. The same man who, according to you- had perfect yet eerie timing for saving you that horrendous night.

"Everything okay back there?"

His voice. Yes, of course, that is one of the reasons you are so wary of him whenever he is around you. His voice seems to have a gravity of its own, moving the things around him in order, according to his elemental force. Maybe that is why even though he has been nothing but a gentleman, he just does not seem to rub you the right way. Which answers the question of why your boss does not like having him around. No two stars with such strong force fields can survive in such close vicinity.

"Didn't realise you cared so much about me."

_ Ah. Right _ . You had nearly forgotten Loki's presence beside you. Nearly. Hard task but it happened for- you look down at your watch- twelve seconds.

Even at five in the morning, he is dressed with the intention of taking over the world. The black suit does not seem to disappoint the looker- in this case, you- when you wonder what all had Gustav packed for you.

"The question wasn't for you," Heimdall admits with an irritated sigh and a raised brow.

You are clearly sitting on the edge of a black hole waiting to be formed.

"Hm," Loki sighs, closing his phone, "here I thought we were finally getting warm."

From the corner of his eyes his watches you smile at his- what he thinks is ill-timed- joke, feeling this strange flutter take form inside his chest. He feels better watching you smile after the night you had. But the moment he remembers the horror and the tears on your face, his fingers close themselves into a fist, calculating all the ways to find out the source and theorise what could possibly be done with them.

_ I'm watching out for my own interests _ , he even tries to convince himself. _ If she isn't in the right frame of her mind, it will affect my work. There is no other reason. _

"Everything's fine, Mr Heimdall, sir," you admit, breaking the cold trance of his thoughts that Loki is swimming in, resurfacing at the call of your tired yet soft voice.

"Okay, good," Heimdall acknowledges with a nod, swerving smoothly towards the private terminal, "just wanted to make sure your boss wasn't being the reason for your silence."

You brows converge as you turn to face Loki in confusion, him doing the same but ending it with an eye roll and a slight shake of his head. "He has a tendency to mock my skills as a host ever since the beginning."

You let your tired eyes go a little wide to show the dawn of realisation engulfing your sleep-craving brain while Heimdall scoffs from the driver's seat.

Ten minutes later you sit in the most comfortable little jet you have witnessed in your life, your hope of getting a shut-eye in the back of the plane seeming impossible as you are shown to the comfortable soft leather seat facing Loki while Heimdall and Robert- who was responsible for the vehicle bringing the luggage- sit at the back.

_ Oh well, might just make good use of it. _

"The marketing and finance floor each sent in a list of investors for the new subsidiary of agro-plant and machinery."

Loki- already settled in his seat, his jacket resting in the closet at the back, his sleeves rolled up just enough for you to think how used to he is hiding his scar- looks up at a fidgety you trying to find a comfortable angle to sit as you open up your laptop and turn it to show him the list.

"Tell them to run their respective checks," he concludes, taking the champagne offered by the hostess who is looking at him with the most suggestive look, ticking something off inside your mind.

"Uh...they already did," you mention, your fingers curling into your palms, trying to stop you from saying anything further.

Loki has learned to read that look you have on your face right now. The look of having something to say but letting anything out for the fear of something awful.

"And?"

He watches you blink, take in a lungful and sit straight in your seat before finally speaking.

"It...um...there are a couple of things that I...what I'm trying to s-"

"She made me run an intense background check on the list. None of them is worth letting into your business," Heimdall finishes all your anxiety for you and creates another tide nonetheless.

Loki eyes you with curiosity first and you are still trying to make sense of what he is thinking before he pulls your laptop towards him and eyes the list.

"What's wrong with the Silvercombs?"

You turn to Heimdall, who simply tilts his head to let you take charge on this one.

"The heir to the business is the elder son. He's..." you tilt your hands in the traditional gesture of 'that's how it is', "a known socialite who has been stealing money from the company's charity to fund his extravagant parties."

You can hear Loki click and swipe on your machine, watching the stills and captured CCTV footage of the man being involved in everything that is wrong.

"Okay," Loki's brow does a little wave, letting it seep in, "what about Dante and Bradburn?"

"Involved in sex trafficking," you say softly, wrapping one hand on your opposite arm, rubbing your thumb over the skin that can feel the goosebumps come in waves over the surface.

"Smith and Darby?"

"Darby is renouncing the partnership soon. He is leaving the empire to settle with his new wife in the Himalayas after they lost their daughter in an accident. Smith doesn't know about the decision yet but Heimdall thinks he will grow suspicious of the fund flow within the next month or two which might not be good for the employees if there isn't a contingency plan that can bear Smith's temper."

"Would you like anything else with your champagne, sir?"

The hostess practically coos at Loki, making you wish you'd just taken an economy flight, never having to witness the ridiculousness that you were seeing right now.

"No, thank you," Loki sits up to look at you, not even breathing in that woman's direction, who- you admit to yourself- seems like Victoria's Secret model on her off days, "so no one on that list is clean?"

"How about some s-"

"Excuse me," Loki breaks the woman's coy composure with just a thread of iciness, "I am trying to have a conversation with her, do you mind?"

It is hard to look at the poor lady trying to keep herself together as she goes away but not that hard when you realise you are the only one on the plane without any refreshments.

"There are two companies we weren't able to find much about. Anvil Corp and Goliath Inc. Nothing is given about the owners on the company's website. The VPs are ordinary people and are as clean as a human can be but I still have my doubts."

The captain of the flight welcomes every passenger by their name before announcing take off, making you the first one to fasten your seatbelt as the engine comes to life.

No further conversation is made as you see the gravel move back from outside your window.

What your mildly anxious heart does not notice is the three pair of eyes discreetly glued on to you, looking for any signs of discomfort that might need external aid.

Loki can see your eyes shut close- partially due to the uneasiness of the flight, partially due to the heaviness in your head thanks to a sleepless night- while your fingers try to dig into the leather of the armrests. He cannot help but notice how your breathing accelerates with every second as his mind counts the gap between every inhale. You open your eyes just for a few moments, making the mistake of looking outside just as the plane tilts and the dew in your eyes is clearly visible to the man sitting opposite you.

Without wasting another bit he reaches into his pant pockets and takes out a silver strip of some medicine.

"Here," he calls out to you, "John recommended me this for my...travelling sickness. Take a tablet."

You look at the silver strip, sending its reflection everywhere inside the plane, wondering for a moment about the medicine before throwing every precaution out the door to take it from his hand and popping one inside your mouth.

The little tablet tastes sweet on the tip of your tongue, readily dissolving in your mouth. Within minutes you start feeling your nerves relax, your breathing ease up, and your hands unwind. That's what it takes to finally have slumber engulf you in its embrace.

"What did you give her?" Heimdall whispers at Loki with a hint of anger, frustration and worry swirling inside his voice.

"An SOS for anxiety," Loki whispers back, looking at the unconvinced face of the watcher, "oh relax! Her doctor recommended it. And I know that you know."

Heimdall does not counter him. Instead, he watches him get up and take the seat next to Robert and Heimdall, swivelling the furniture towards them in order to face them more comfortably.

"Did you find anything?"

Heimdall watches Loki's gaze go further than where he sits, following it to see Robert produce a file for both the spectators. He takes the file and opens it for him and Loki to see. Inside is the entire life of a man that goes by the name Harrison Wardwell.

"There is a five-year timeline from about ten years ago when he was in the same city as Kira," Robert whispers, pointing at the activities of the man during that time along with pictures of him from every source that is at his disposal. "It looked like coincidence first until I found out he used to work with her mother's sister. According to the photographs on her social media, they dated for a while before he decided to end things and move away."

Both Heimdall and Loki study the timeline intensely, letting the information be etched in their brains.

Loki's eyes wandering eyes pause over Robert when he watches him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"What is it?"

Robert breathes in before turning to look at you sleeping, hearing you snore lightly.

"During that time, Kira frequently visited her family doctor for various ailments," Robert hesitates a bit before continuing, "her doctor had coded her file with symptoms of depression. And...more."

Both spectators looked on at the copy of notes Robert had put inside the file.

*Patient shows symptoms of depression...family not been able to catch up...Does not express anything...as if...in shock...unable to register her surroundings...avoids talking to the male staff in the hospital...*

The flip of the page forces Robert to glue his eyes on Heimdall and Loki, reading every minute change in their expression when they see what seems like a family photograph with a recognisable Harrison and barely identifiable- not to mention too young- Kira not smiling for the camera while the former keeps his hand on her shoulder.

.

"I was not expecting this."

"It's Tony Stark. What else were you expecting?"

You look at Loki with a mixture of confusion and frown.

_ What the hell do you mean 'It's Tony Stark...' _

"But...it's an  _ expo _ ..." you try to reason with yourself than with Loki as the cars that picked you up from the airport now slowly take you through the gates of what seems like a little heaven made right in Anthony Edward Stark's city.

There are cars coming in and going out through this estate that is covered in more green than the entire New York City combined. Striking villas lineup two streets,  nearly making you miss the lake right in the middle of lush green golf grounds lying at the back of those too-good-to-be-true houses.

_ Wait. Will we be staying in one of these...mansions? _ you wonder through the window when another lane filled with better villas named after a flower passed by.  _ But I just left a mansion! _

Turning another lane, the driver stops the vehicle after just a few meters.

"The reception, Madam, Sir," he announces.

You are trying to let his words seep through your brain when the door on your side opens with fair greetings.

"Welcome to Potts Sunrise Estate," the concierge greets, indirectly urging you to get out of the car.

The air smells of grass and something sweet and sensational that you cannot put your finger on. The sun is brighter and the sky is clearer than you'd seen eleven hours before. There are birds chirping somewhere in the distance while a few people are going in and out of the reception, some of them meeting up like long lost friends, which, a part of you envies for a withering moment.

"I'll go see what Stark's kept in store for us," Loki mentions, adjusting his jacket before turning to Robert and Heimdall- getting out of the car behind you.

You see them exchange a nod before Robert takes out the luggage and Heimdall excuses himself, telling the former to go ahead while he 'takes care of some business'.

_ Great. I'm invisible I guess. _

The reception is nothing too over the top but a decent room of glass supported by wooden beams and decorated with plants, vines and windchimes- housing a place for the people who are responsible for helping out the guests. By the east side in the present shade sits a statue of Buddha in meditation and opposite to it in the lawn is a swing chair in white. The windchimes strike a duet with the breeze that puts your soul in a happy mood.

"No, but you don't get it, Hope. I'd love to stay in one of those mansions because it's day time. But the moment the sun goes down I'd be running around for the smallest box to hide in because my brain won't stop playing 'Tip-toe by the window'. It's the monkey brain, hon. Can't do nothin' about it."

You turn around to watch a fair-skinned man with eyes filled with so much light, you think they might start shedding tears of pure sunshine at any moment. The woman with him is his total opposite. Filled with grace and composure that dances with her hair bouncing off her shoulder, away from the collar of the white pantsuit she is dressed in.

"All I asked you was whether you picked the key of our chalet from reception or not," the woman decrees, walking away, the man following her like a puppy lost in love.

"Also I don't get half the people arriving here in three-piece suits. The expo doesn't start till tomorrow. What are you guys, business jocks?" He raises his hands in question, making eye contact with you halfway when he sees your eyes light up at the topic.

"Oh my God," you chime, "right?"

Like a hundred light bulbs turning on at once, his face lights up as he points his index finger at you in the friendliest 'hey, she gets me!' gesture.

"See?" he tries to show Hope another human who agrees with him before turning back towards you to shout, "love your shirt."

You look down at the Lord of The Rings themed blue shirt matched with black cotton palazzo pants, smiling at the thought of looking anything near decent in this. That too after an eleven-hour flight.

"Thank you!" you nearly yell back, turning towards the reception with a huge smile on your face, nearly bumping into a very curious Loki.

You try to hide the joy on your face so as to compose yourself in his presence, clearing your throat to try and explain the reason for this absurd goofiness.

"Twenty."

"Hm?"

"The chalet booked for us. Number twenty."

"Oh. Okay."

You both walk behind the concierge helping you out with the luggage.

_ Wait. _

_ The chalet booked for us. Us. Us-us? _

_ How many rooms does a chalet have? _

_ What even is a chalet? _

.

"Ah, rooms," you sigh with relief on walking in another room on the upper floor. With three rooms in all- two bedrooms with attached bathrooms on the first floor and one of similar nature downstairs apart from the cosy living room with an open kitchenette- you are already falling in love with this place.

"Keep these in the room upstairs and the rest in this room," you hear Loki's voice from the living room downstairs.

Your belongings have been moved to the room attached to the hall while his stuff has moved up to the supposed 'master bedroom'.

_ When did chivalry die to make him the boss of all decisions? _

You feel the jetlag catalyse with this microscopic bitterness rising inside you. _ Is the same man who comforted me- in his own way- last night? _

The bell breaks the heaviness rising around you.

Loki looks from behind the kitchen counter as you walk towards the main door to open it.

An attendant with a kind smile stands with a letter over a box of chocolates in his hand.

"Invitation from Miss Potts and Mister Stark," he announces ever so politely, inclining Loki to take a few steps towards the door but not come any closer for that man to directly hand him the letter.

"Oh, what for?" you ask excitedly.

"Welcome dinner in honour of all the guests gathered here in the name of the brighter future with Stark Industries," he responds with a little bow.

You are looking in the plain yet elegant invitation in your hand- clearly Pepper's choice- too overwhelmed by the thought to finally meet her after such a long time.

"We will be awaiting your presence at dinner tonight," the attendant seems to conclude, again with a bow, "Mr and Mrs Odinson."

You hear your soul scream while it dies and rises from its grave simultaneously.

"W-ha-no-uhhh...I-we are...no...uhh..."

Words have abandoned you in the forest drowned in the thickest blanket of snow. The animals are all looking at you with pure judgement in their eyes while you're trying to explain that one arctic monkey you are not made for an ice-water lunge as he continues to look at you in confusion.

And through all this chaotic silence, Loki is that one sane fox who lets go of a tired breath and steps forward to close the door in that monkey's face, finally putting a stop to the verbal stroke you just suffered.

.

"It is supposed to be dinner!"

"With the most influential people in the world!"

"So?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...hello?"

"You and Loki truly deserve each other-"

"Gustav!"

"-s company!"

You look at your phone screen with the urge to break through it and shake Gustav by his collar.

"I am not wearing that thing to dinner tonight."

"So you're letting all those hours of sweat and tears of mine go to waste?"

"This is pure blackmail."

"Is it though?" you can clearly hear that rusty teasing edge in his voice.

"Come on, man, this...this thing," you hesitate before lowering your voice to a whisper, "it's too revealing!"

The knock on your room's door is slight but that doesn't mean it isn't enough to make you jump where you sit in your bathrobe, nearly throwing your phone away.

"Kira, are you decent?"

_ I'm fucking terrified if that matters! _

"Y-yes," you declare, letting Loki turn the handle to your door and step in.

You have to catch your breath in order to not blurt out what all you feel when you see him at that moment.

Loki has cleaned up nicely. The three-piece suit- sheen black over the smaragdine shirt- fits him a bit too perfectly. The pants around his long legs are just the right length to complement them. The shirt is loose enough to look comfortable but not loose enough to feel shaggy on him. His hair has been swept back quite thoroughly and his presence smells of jasmine wrapping a street in a village that sells its freshest herbs and spices.

"You...are not ready yet," he mentions after a quick scan of you, head to toe.

"You look nice," you are finally able to speak, now realising what he just said. "Oh, yeah. I'll um...don't worry. You go ahead. I'll catch up at the villa," you assure him, trying to breathe in between words to keep your brain working.

Loki gives you a thoughtful look before turning around to go towards the door. "Don't get lost on your way."

Just this once you excuse his insult and go back to the call you were concerned about a few seconds ago.

"Uhh..."

"He looks riveting, doesn't he," Gustav states in the most casual way.

"...that would be an understatement," you whisper, fearing he might be hearing you from somewhere close by.

"You don't have to fight with me, dear. Just ask yourself what you would like to feel tonight."

_ Feel? Feel. _

And like the unforeseen monsoon winds hitting smack in the middle of a hot summer, your wet dream starring you and Loki flashes right before your eyes.

You look at yourself in the full-length mirror next to the bed, thinking what you are already feeling right this second.

"I want to feel..." you do not realise you are thinking out loud saying the words as they form.

"I want to feel that dangerous spark tonight," you conclude.

"Well...?" Gustav's voice reflects all shades of excitement.

Filling your lungs with air, you straighten your back, watching those callow eyes turn a shade darker to reveal something that has been long asleep.

"What footwear do you think would look great with that dress?"


	10. A Flower in Green

"It's okay. You can say Stark has too much money."

Loki does not turn at the voice but the familiarity makes him smile nonetheless.

He catches the bartender's eyes in front of him. "Amarula Cream for the lady. Make it the traditional way if you can, please."

Solaris forces out a chuckle. " _ Really _ ? Just because I'm African, I'd like an Amarula?"

Loki smirks and turns towards the woman, leaning on the blue-lit bar surface. "So you don't like it, Solaris?"

Solaris presses her lips together to suppress one delicious grin forming up to her cheeks. She mirrors Loki and takes the cold glass filled with creamy liqueur waiting for her.

"Shut up and let me enjoy insulting you," she mentions softly, sipping her drink and smacking her lips.

Loki observes the crowd that has gathered in the open air in the back of the villa that is a temporary abode for Stark for the expo. Lights are set in lamps which adorn the trees lining up the lawn, lighting up the area with the softest hue. The bar sits by the corner away from the stairs coming down from the villa. Despite the supposed season, the air seems colder than usual but the company is warm.

"What," he finally states, sweeter than expected, feeling Solaris' eyes burning on his side, "do you want?"

Solaris doesn't even blink as she's watching him with a tilted head.

"Where is she?" Her voice is nearly a whisper.

He simply shrugs.

She frowns.

"Did you leave her alone, Loki?"

Loki turns to face her. "I'm sure she'll be fine, darling."

"Mm-hmm," Solaris nods her head, taking a generous sip of her drink. "I'm sure she'll be fine. But what about you?"

Loki blinks. "What about me?"

She wants to laugh out loud and smack Loki lightly in the face but she holds on to those emotions for future, downing her drink all at once. "Doesn't matter."

"So..." Loki continues, gesturing the bartender for another round for the lady, "did you meet him?"

"Who?"

Loki licks his lips, preparing himself to say the name he knows Solaris has an aversion to lately.

"Nakia."

And he's a second late.

Loki can feel her freeze just for a second, the playful smile disappearing from her eyes as she composes herself to turn around and face the source of the voice.

T'Challa stands in a glorious purple suit with the embellishments of the land he rules decorating the fabric with love.

Love.

That's not exactly the emotion Loki would think of when he sees the king of Wakanda freeze where he stands, his eyes searching for something familiar when he sees Solaris.

"Nakia I..." He knows not what to say.

"Solaris," she helps him. "My name is Solaris," she softly declares with the slightest smile on her lips before turning to the king's confidant. "Okoye," she greets.

"Umngcatshi," Okoye acknowledges, making Solaris feel a cold wave go down her spine.

"Okoye," the king barely lets his lax voice scold his right hand, sensing old emotions surfacing between the two women. "Ndidinga ukuthetha naye..."

Whatever he says does not seem to sit well with Okoye, who bores her eyes into T'Challa. "...yedwa."

.

"Curse you-ah freaking...stupid...arms! Ugh!"

_ I give up. _

Your arms ache with the fruitless effort of trying to get to the back of your dress right.

_ Stupid stupid dress. Arrggh! _

You sigh and let your arms drop down on the sink in the empty bathroom of the villa.

Everything was perfect. Your hair, makeup; you were even wearing shoes that matched the outfit! Boy, you were feeling confident till a woman standing outside the villa pointed out that the back of your dress had hidden protrusions that were supposed to be tied at the back. Only if you had some sort of help.

"Solaris!" you whispered to yourself with relief, picking up the phone and feeling your body jump when the door to the bathroom opened.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," a voice came from behind you, "I should have knocked."

Deep, clear, sweet and definitely belonging to a male.

"Y-yeah I'll just be a minute," you announce softly, easing the shiver in your voice before whispering to yourself, "just need to figure out how to tie a knot without dislocating my arm."

You can see the reflection of the door nearly turning behind you, stopping right before it can click close.

"If it's okay," you hear the densely luxurious voice again, "is there anything I can help you with?"

You think about the offer for a few seconds before internally staring at your ego and thinking about going through the torture of having to bend your arms again.

"Yes, please," you blurt out before your brain can process, "but before that, how good are you at tying a knot."

"Hmm," you hear the man behind you, somehow relieved that the small bathroom space is saving you the embarrassment of looking him in the eye through all this, just giving him barely any room outside the door to have a view of your back, "does bow-tieing gift boxes count as a good knotting skill?"

.

"You know I was thinking how will I find Loki in this crowd but then I suddenly see the most heated corner and thought to myself 'why did I even think it was possible for you to get lost in a crowd'."

Loki has to roll his eyes as he raises his glass of soda just a few inches.

"I apologise if I'm stealing your thunder, Stark," he spews ever so gently.

Tony raises his brow at the cocktail of modesty and high attitude that Loki serves him with a smirk.

"Were you drinking something stronger than soda I would have felt the need to tell you not to shit where you eat but..."

Loki chuckles.

"...clearly it is not my day to tell you that, is it?"

Loki follows his gaze towards the lone steps under a tree where T'Challa and Solaris- Nakia- are having a word.

"They look good together," Loki mutters- surprising both him and Stark, neither of them giving away much except for blinking at the sudden soft outburst.

"Yeah," Stark shrugged, "They do look together."

"Idiots," they hear from their side, turning to watch Okoye judging them, "idiots are running this world."

"Well, I agree," Stark raised his glass of orange juice to her before chugging the cold, pulpy drink down.

"Wonderful party, Mr Stark."

A new voice greets the host and all three of them turn to watch the greeter.

A man stands at a respectful distance from Stark in a tuxedo, wearing a soft smile, both on his lips and in his eyes. None of the audience seems to recognise this tall man with a perfect physique and clearly a really good taste in clothes.

"Thank you, man I don't really seem to recall," Stark responds, narrowing his eyes at the guy still smiling at him, only this time his perfect teeth shine through.

"William Billy Russo," he introduces himself, bringing forward his hand for a shake, "owner of Anvil Corp."

Loki's ears flare up at the name and suddenly he is all interested in Billy Russo.

The man has dark eyes, caramel but way too cooked for the light to reflect back. His ebony hair is pushed back with a generous amount of gel with a soft cut at the sides. His stubble is clean, the jawlines making it all the more better to look at and suddenly Loki feels the inception of some unspoken curiosity tickling his nerves.

"The company that deals in private security, isn't it?"

Billy's head is angled slightly upward. Only his eyes move to meet Loki's before his hand presents itself to Loki.

"You must be Loki Odinson."

"I prefer Loki."

"Of course," Billy corrects himself, "You have made quite a name for yourself, your grace."

"Woah," Stark mutters while Loki gives him a wry smile.

"Like I said," Loki asserts with great poise, "I only prefer Loki. Any person deserving to be royalty is probably in the corner behind us," he indirectly gestures at T'Challa, who is now standing alone as Solaris comes back to the bar to see what the group meeting is about.

"Solaris, I presume," Billy is the first to address the lady, giving out his hand for her, already earning raised brows from the gentlemen.

"Billy Russo," she smiles at the man as he kisses her hand, "I am charmed that you even know my name."

"And I am charmed that I get to be the name you remember," he replies.

"Okay," Tony breaks the flirty air, picking up a glass of champagne, "Hozier is in the house. He is about to start getting medieval lovers crazy so I'd rather be with my girlfriend than in the company filled with-" he looks at all the men around him- "sophisticated testosterones. Let's just leave it for another day. Or lifetime."

Stark walks away and the strums of guitars can be heard on the stage by the end of the lawn with a decent space ahead of it for people who are interested in enjoying the music with dance. A couple of them are already on that glowing platform, waiting for the singer to begin.

"I wonder what Stark did to get Hozier to perform at this gathering," Loki mutters to Solaris, who is facing the stairs with wide eyes right now. "He went all out, didn't he?"

Solaris' lips go wide along with her eyes. "Looks like not only Stark went all out."

Loki turns to look at her and then follow her gaze to the villa's stairs, feeling everything around him stop when he notices the figure standing on top right when the music begins.

.

_ I still watch you when you're groovin' _

_ As if through water from the bottom of a pool _

Stars have been brought down from the sky to be embellished in the green fabric that covers your body. Going down your shoulder, covering your arms with a God-like grace, laying bare the middle of your chest as the neckline plunges further than you would like it on any normal day. A slit till up your thigh lets the chilly wind tease the flowing fabric around your legs while your shoulders, waist and the very tips of this royal green is kissed by tiny suns trailing their way down to the slit.

_ You're movin' without movin' _

_ And when you move, I'm moved _

You are a shimmering delight for anyone who sets their eyes on you; no matter which angle they look from. Your hair sits on one side in the front to let the bare back with just a sweet little bow on the upper back play with imagination.

_ You are a call to motion _

_ There, all of you a verb in perfect view _

The eyes that are looking at you with a lingering gaze are riling up your anxiety and you realise you are right in the middle of the marble steps, feeling the nausea when you start questioning if you can really do it. You begin scanning the crowd for anything familiar. Anyone at all.

And then you see him.

.

_ Like Jonah on the ocean _

_ When you move, I'm moved _

"So she is the one I had the privilege of helping."

Loki hears Billy but he is not swayed by his words because those smaragdines are stuck on you. Only you. No corner of his imagination could have thought how stunning you could look when you willingly wanted to put in the effort. And here he stands watching you become the gravity of this place as every human seems to centre themselves around you tonight, bringing out a burning sensation right in his chest.

_ When you move _

_ I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be _

He can see you look at him, watch how your chest rises and falls in one long moment and your shoulders relax.  _ Because of me? _ He wonders. You pass him a smile and a piece of his soul seems to melt; he blinks. And just in that blink he watches something expected and yet unacceptable by his heart.

_ When you move _

_ I could never define all that you are to me _

.

You have been walking down the stairs in the block heels of gold that Gustav had been kind to add to your costume. Your eyes are still stuck on Loki, blinking away once when you notice Solaris wave at you and wink, gesturing at how you look gorgeous, catalysing the heat rising at the back of your neck. You do not realise when you've reached the end of the steps.

"May I have this dance?"

_ So move me, baby _

_ Shake like the bough of a willow tree _

You don't want to look away from those green eyes shining under the soft lights but the voice forces you to look at dark embers waiting right in front of you.

"Uhh..." You are lost for words

"As a token of gratitude for helping you earlier?" The man smiles.

_ You do it naturally _

_ Move me, baby _

It takes you a second before you are able to recognise that deep voice and can now finally place a handsome face to it.

_ Oh well, one dance won't hurt would it? _

He already has his hand out. You take it a little hesitantly.

"Don't worry," that soft face says with a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand as it guides you to the platform where other people are already swaying to the tunes, "I won't bite."

_ I hope so. _

You let him take you on the floor, but your body certainly isn't ready when he wraps his hand around your bare back as it flinches at his touch.

"I don't really know how to dance," you partially lie to cover the jerk your body feels on the foreign touch.

"I'll lead the way," the man smirks down at you, taking your other hand in his, "you just have to follow me."

 

_ You are the rite of movement _

_ Its reasonin' made lucid and cool _

You can feel your muscles twitch. But those strong arms are already flowing, taking them with you, making you move as they move.

.

"What are you waiting for?"

_ I know it's no improvement _

_ When you move, I move _

Loki snaps out of a self-constructed trance where Billy isn't holding you so close to him. He watches Solaris look at him with mischief in her eyes.  _ No _ , he thinks to himself,  _ you don't get to do that. _

_ You're less Polunin leapin' _

"Whatever are you talking about?"

She sighs.

_ Or Fred Astaire in sequins _

_ Honey, you, you're Atlas in his sleepin' _

"Loki, I think we can both agree she is not comfortable in the arms of a stranger," Solaris comments, making Loki shrug.

"So? What am I supposed to do? Swoop her in  _ my  _ arms? I'm sure she's adult enough to handle it on her own. Believe me," Loki asserts, stopping himself from looking in your direction, instead, turning to the bar, nursing his glass of soda, his thumb feeling the edge of the glass.

_ And when you move, I'm moved _

Solaris shifts a little to Loki's side, her voice nearly a whisper. "Kira is at an event with the highest dignitaries where she represents Sun Corp, Loki."

_ When you move _

_ I can recall somethin' that's gone from me _ .

The movements of his thumb stop

_ When you move _

_ Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free _

"She represents you tonight. Do you really think she is in a position to say no to anyone who approaches her?"

_ So move me, baby _

Without an invitation, a graphic picture enters Loki's mind and the glass in his hand bears the impact- having developed a crack right where Loki's thumb was a second ago.

_ Shake like the bough of a willow tree _

_ You do it naturally _

_ Move me, baby _

.

_ Shit, shit, shit. _

_ So move me, baby _

_ Like you've nothin' left to prove _

_ And nothin' to lose _

_ Move me, baby _

Your nervousness is showing in your eyes, and you have an idea why, which is why you're keeping your face low, hidden from prying eyes. Too many eyes on you. Too much pressure to not fall down on the floor face first. You have begun sweating.  _ This is bad. _

_ Ooh, ooh, ooh _

_ Oh baby, oh baby _

As if to accelerate the anxiousness building up inside your throbbing heart, you feel the man leave your waist to make you twirl. 

_ Move like grey skies _

_ Move like a bird of paradise _

Before you can even open your mouth or your brain to absorb what's happening, you are moving a three-sixty, looking for some kind of support to stop your spin right when your chest lands smack on Loki's.

_ Move like an odd sight come out at night _

The song reaches the highest pitch right at your contact. You are impressed by the timing, no doubt, and by your boss' skill to make an entry.

"You all right?" He looks into your Y/E/C eyes, looking for honest answers.

_ Move me, baby _

_ Shake like the bough of a willow tree _

"I am  _ now _ ." You don't know where the authority comes from but you don't let the rush you're feeling dilute.

_ You do it naturally _

_ Move me, baby _

You don't even realise his hold on your waist, never touching your bare body until his fingers are holding yours.

"Would you like to-" Loki's words are hesitant.

"Yes, I'd love to dance with you," you reply before he can change his mind. "But I must warn you I'm not very good at it."

_ So move me, baby _

_ Like you've nothin' left to lose _

Loki smiles at you and all tied up muscles inside you release themselves one by one.

"Just move as you please," he assures you, "and I'll follow."

_ And nothin' to prove _

_ Move me, baby _

And so you do. Oh, the grace that befalls on the floor is a one time wonder that people witness. The softness of the motion between the two of you, the effortlessness of the way the arms glide over the other's, the heat that flows through your body, being greedily devoured by the envious eyes witnessing the two of you till the song recedes and stops and you are left breathless and glowing in Loki's arms.

_ So move me, baby _

_ Shake like the bough of a willow tree _

Billy watches you two from where he stands and smiles before leaving the floor. Solaris watches the smile quite carefully, not sure what to make of it for she is distracted by the vibrations you and Loki are giving off tonight.

_ You do it naturally _

_ Move me, baby _

.

"I didn't know you could dance so well!"

Compliments from Pepper and Solaris are flowing like a monsoon river while you stand in between them with heated cheeks, trying to find some way to be thankful but all you can do is chuckle bashfully.

"I didn't know Loki could dance!" Tony quips, taking away Pepper's empty glass for champagne, doing the same for you and Solaris.

_ Neither did I, apparently. _

His name makes your eyes scan the crowd for him, wondering where he went right after the dancing stopped. And while doing so, you spot a little girl standing by the bar trying to get the bartender's attention.

You excuse yourself from the company to walk towards her and politely ask her what she wants.

"Orange juice," she replies with the most unadulterated curiosity.

"Orange juice for the young lady, please," you tell the bartender, watching the little one's eyes light up.

"With ice!" She jumps up and down.

"Now, now. We can't have ice unless your mother or father allows it, can we?" You ask her.

She thinks for a moment before turning to look to her left. You follow her gaze and see a beautiful Japanese woman smiling delicately at the two of you.

She shakes her head and speaks something only her daughter understands, who turns back to you. "No ice," she says.

Picking up the small glass from the bar, you carefully hand it to the girl, who thanks you and runs to her mother, who bows to you to thank you for your kindness and you mirror her for her gratitude.

Not another moment passes when you spot Loki's back at the corner of the villa with another man. There's no thinking twice and you're already walking on the little gravel path on the boundaries of the lawn to go to him.

"It is unwise of you to do so, brother," you hear from that direction, unable to make out the features of the other man in the dark.

"Oh, please do tell," Loki's voice never rises it's usual pitch, "what else is wrong of me. Apart from being adopted from the slum of your father's most hated enemy."

A drum sounds in your heart at the words and your pace slows down but never stops.

"Brother please," the other man is stressing, "this is madness. Come back to us. And father will take care-"

"Do not."

The weight in Loki's words throws a rumble inside you and this time you stop; just five steps short of where he and his brother stands.

"Don't you dare complete that sentence if you have a sliver of empathy for your brother, Thor. Don't you dare say another word if you truly think of yourself in any way human or somewhere close to it."

You feel your feet sink an inch into the ground at the harshness coming out of Loki. It is just a glimpse but the darkness of his emeralds is hard to miss even in such weak light reaching this unlit corner.

"Leave him be, Thor," another aged voice comes from the dark, making the buffed up figure of 'Thor' move aside to give place to a much shorter one- with an air so daunting you can feel it up to your throat, "this scum born from dirt does not know the privilege he was bestowed when I carried him from soil."

One step into the light from the shadows and you watch as the part where an eye should be, glimmers in gold in one single patch while the other is...blank. the wrinkles on his face tell his age but there are no emotions. He is expressionless for his son.

"There is nothing wrong in Thor saying you will be taken care of," the man announces quite close to Loki's face and can't help but see your boss' hand twitch and curl up much to your internal fear. "Because, boy, you will be taken care of once you step foot back in Asgard. Broken and disarmed of anything precious to you for the good of everyone living in this goddamn world."

The words are spit on his face. The man walks away and Thor follows but not before he sees you standing there, your eyes only set on his brother's back.

You take one step forward. Then another.

"Loki?" You whisper despite your heart's frail attempts to stop you from doing so.

You feel his head rise just a noticeable bit and your body wants to take a u-turn and dash away but your dull reflexes just freeze you there and then.

It is hard to make out at first but the moment you register his erratic breaths your feet move towards him.

"Lo-"

"Walk. Away."

His whisper is ice burning straight through your heart, breaking your resolve bit by bit. But somewhere some intuitive part of you can smell the fear surrounding him.

"I can't," you admit.

_ Not after...not after last night.  _ You take another step but a firm hand stops you.

"I'd leave him be if I were you," Thor gesticulates at you, his eyes turning with a single shade of diluted but subtle animosity. Loki is already walking away as Thor speaks. You want to follow him but the grip on you is hard if not abusive. "Believe me, woman," he continues with a sigh, "he does not deserve the love and compassion that is given to him."

.

The walk back to the chalet is tedious. Not because the road is long but because of Loki's inability to breathe right now. He barely manages to get the key in the door's lock to open it and shove himself inside. Sweat marks his brows and his heart burns because of the speed it is beating at.  _ Water.  _ He heads straight to the kitchenette from the door to pick up the nearest bottle only to find it empty. Curses fly out of his mouth as he leaves the bottle to roll on the slab before it slips by the edge shatters on the ground. Tears blur his eyes. He tries to wipe them away but they just do not stop.

It burns. Everything burns. Inside out.

His bowtie is loosened when he is in the nearest room- your room- making his way to the bathroom to get some water inside and over him when nausea starts hitting him. He is on his knees when the bathroom door opens, opening the toilet cover and seat to regurgitate every bit of sickness he is feeling on every level.

He can't take it anymore. It is too much. Another rush hits his throat and he bleches it out, the tears turning his eyes red. He wants to move hands to help himself but they're numb along with his legs.

_ Why. _

Heavy clouds mark his mind, the sweat beads being the rainstorm.

_ Why am I even alive right now? _

There is a slight shift in his weight, unknown wetness around his neck. He is wondering about the source when the prison that is his collar opens up for him to let in as much air as he can.

"Yes, breathe. It's okay. Breathe." Your voice.

_ It's you. Kira. _

"Here, let me take care of your hair." Your voice. Why does it feel so good? Like a Kalimba being played on a sunny day in the mountains. He can feel your fingers run through his hair, catching all the strands with too much affection before tying them up. "Here," you say softly, almost killing him with all this kindness, "let it all out. It'll help you. I promise, it will."

He shifts towards the bowl feeling your hands ever so gently run up and down his back. All the heat gathered up is slowly phasing away and the sweat beads grow bigger, trickling his forehead to the tip of his nose before falling down. Another filth-ridden rush comes up his throat and he lets it all out. Cold air rushes all over him. The sweat is soothed down. His heartbeat relaxes from the rush, his insides feeling four levels lighter. Oh how heavenly it feels to breathe normally again! Or maybe it's your touch. Your hands resting on his arms, leaving this breathy lightness wherever they have touched him.

_ How is it possible? _ He has to ask himself.

"Wash your face, I'll get you a change of your clothes," you state.

Loki is in no condition to argue and so he does what he thinks should be done, not what you told him to. Getting up with whatever strength he has left he turns to the sink to wash his face and rinse his mouth. The air that leaves his lungs rots with the stench of his burning insides but it feels good to let it out in any way. The towels are soft and help him neutralise the harshness left on his skin.

Loki's clothes for the night- his black pyjama and shirt are waiting for him on your bed but you are nowhere to be seen and he would drown himself in that sink before calling for you. The tux is thrown in the laundry box by the corner of the room and the cool clothes feel so much better on his skin. With a relieved sigh that escapes his mouth, he settles on the bed and falls asleep.

.

The nightmare comes again. One filled with tortures and screams, blood etching his skin and claws digging deep into him while he cries for help. He sees himself fall, wake up in freezing coldness, die more than once after.

But this time he wakes up before he can see the most barbaric climax.

The heavy breaths are silent this time when his eyes see the unfamiliar surroundings around him. He is not home. He is somewhere else. He is...

_ Kira. _

You sleep on the settee by the wall next to the bed. Back into your PJs. It comforts him- because you finally looks comfortable, snoring lightly as you sleep without a care in the world. How he wishes he could have an ounce of what you have right now.

Loki turns where he lays to face you, resting his head on his shoulder as he watches peace glide right from your face. He does not even know when there is a smile brewing over his lips. The arm your head rests on stretches out, nearly halfway to Loki, your fingers curled downwards; he knows this is going to ache in the morning.

In this moment, he does not think.

It just happens.

The hand under his head slips away and reaches under your hand. He does not dare touch you. Not yet.  _ You are too pure _ \- is what he thinks. But his heart aches for the healing touch you left on him tonight. Never in a million years did he think you would come back for him, rescue him from this darkness that has been building in his heart for so long. With that thought, his fingers rise up and touch yours, feeling the soulful cold on his tips from yours along with a buzz that lights up his insides.

_ Of all things _ , he thinks to himself,  _ why did you have to be my cure? _

He feels your fingers twitch, pausing for a second before feeling them lower onto his, delighting his heart beyond recognition.

Sleep crawls into the room, taking her sweet time to let Loki be lightened by your touch before she makes his eyes heavy after aeons, bringing well-deserved tiredness with her.

With one thought he floats into a dreamy sleep; this time with Y/E/C eyes smiling and dancing amongst the stars.

_ Pure. _


	11. A Walk in Dahlia

It's a warm kiss.

The touch of the first rays of sun entering the bedroom, that is. Your exposed neck is an open field for those golden specks of radiating waves to dance on, washing away the crispness of last night's frost.

Last night.

And with one tiny intrusion of that snakeling of thought, your mind is travelling to last night, travelling through the frames of bits and pieces- the new stranger, the dance, the conversation with Stark, the little girl, the uninvited opinions, harsh words in the dark, Loki.

_ Loki. _

Your eyes go wide open to search for him when images of last night's anxiety-ridden figure of your boss rile up your mind. And just as you open them, you see his face right next to yours.

It takes a couple of moments and a virtual nag to the accelerated heartbeat to realise you fell asleep on the settee next to the bed last night when you'd thought of sitting next to him in case he had another attack. In your experience, there was always a good chance for such a thing to happen when you were at your most vulnerable. Last night, it was Loki in your presence, at the edge of the cliff.

His head rests in the over fluffed pillow, almost covering half of his face from where you look. The fine lines he usually carries with him on his forehead are gone. A spectrum of serenity shrouds him now, his face glowing in the secondary sunlight while his breaths are easy. His lips barely open, the softest of pink colour enticing you to keep looking at them as your mind wanders off behind the lines that should not be crossed, your conscience trying to find out what it would be like to have your lips- when they are not crusty- cross path with his.

Loki stirs to make your heart come right into your mouth. But he is still deep in slumber, leaving you free to breathe once again.

_ My imagination will be the death of me some day _ , you wonder before quietly trying to creep out of the blanket over you.

_ Wait. _

_ I didn't have a blanket last night? _

And with the realisation that comes to pass with this, you feel your cheeks and neck burn, giving your wild mind a free pass to run down the hall screaming at the thought of Loki taking care of you.

_ Relax _ , you try to shout into the hall,  _ it's just a freaking blanket! _

But your mind is as lush as you have given it the freedom to be. And once the freedom has been given, it is next to impossible to ever get it back.

Cursing, you get up, trying not to look at that serene face- and failing- as you make your way outside, bumping into the door frame twice.

.

It is getting harder to breathe as Loki tries to make his way through the thickness of this dark forest surrounding him. No matter how fast he runs, the sound of footsteps does not recede, forcing him to keep going till he hits a clearing.

"What are you looking at, boy," the familiar one-eyed figure barks at him, "there is nothing for you here. No one can save you now."

Something inside Loki breaks again and starts walking away when he hears his mother call out to him.

"Loki, my son," she begs but never steps towards him, standing right next to her husband.

Loki blinks at her, his eyes begging more than anything. The eerie footsteps sound again, forcing him to leave with more questions, his weary body being dragged away by a weary soul. It feels like hours before he hears voices in that maze of a forest. And just as he lands in the nearest clearing, the footsteps following him stop. There are no more sounds except for his heavy breathing and the cracking of fire torches kept by the edges of the clearing.

"He's alone," a voice comes from a figure standing near his left, a face he cannot make out, "he can't run anywhere for any kind of help."

No matter how hard Loki tries to focus on the faces that are gathered there, he cannot recognise a single one of them.

"Exploit it," announces another figure.

His feet drag him away from the edge towards the centre of the clearing where a group stands huddled together to witness something.

"It will be easy to break away the threads."

This voice, he recalls. It is the voice of the man he met yesterday.

And with surety, he looks at the face, to watch his eyes land on the features of Billy Russo looking right at him with red threads intertwined between his fingers.

"He did not work that hard on them, you see," Billy points out directly to Loki, who watches the man give one strong jerk to his hands to move apart, watching the threads break in a flash.

"It will be easy to undo the knots," Billy continues.

But Loki is no longer looking at him. His flaring green eyes are stuck on the wooden casket that lies right in the middle of the clearing- the wood adorned with carvings of every type of flower there is.

"It's not that hard," Billy is just white noise now that Loki is stepping towards the casket with measured steps, "just taking away one thread. Just like you did a few years ago?"

The top is glass, reflecting in the single ray of sunlight that has struggled to find its way till that very surface.

"A thread for a thread," Billy whispers in the blurred background when Loki stands by the casket.

"A head... for a head," the whisper changes from the voice of Billy to a more ominous presence; the voice that is the root of his nightmares.

.

There is a gasp for much-needed air as Loki's eyes open with seas of shock and horror, his limbs move him to sit up and find him in bed. In a chalet. In a resort. There is no bizarre forest, neither any unsettling groups surrounding him. Just a sweet sound of birds from outside the door that has a small painted window bringing in multiple soft hues of the risen sun. The breaths are steady now. So is the mind. Loki moves his fingers through his hair, taking them all back before pausing to look beside him at the empty unkempt settee.

_ Kira. _

"Kira?" He calls out for her, hoping she's in the kitchenette. Or the shower. But there is no answer.

He gets up, walks to the bathroom door, knocks on it before entering. No one. The basin still has droplets of water lining up in no periodic fashion, telling him she woke up just a while ago.

_ She better have gone to get me breakfast. _

His face washed and his mouth brushed, he looks in the mirror and feels a cold current go down his spine when the face of Billy Russo flashes in front of him in the mirror. Loki knows not much of this man. And he does not like not knowing about people. Without a second thought, he walks out into the bedroom, grabs the blue jacket lying on the drawer next to his set of keys and walks out of the chalet, shutting the door behind him.

.

"It's a Ladybug!"

The cackles of a child fill the fresh and crisp morning with warmth.

Loki has finally spotted you in the greenery of the land that goes as far as the eyes can see, sitting down on the grass with a little girl he had seen last night. What was her name again? Hiyori, he recalls. Adachi Hiyori. Daughter of Adachi Eiichiro and Adachi Megumi.

He sighs, wondering what bug bit the woman named Kira to be playing with the daughter of the most influential family in Japan like a five-year-old.

"It tickles!" you chortle, watching the child laugh at the possibility of an adult wriggling on the touch of a ladybug to her neck.

"Hiyori!" her mother calls out from the nearest building with a pleasant smile, "come let's have breakfast!"

You get up and help the little one, getting rid of the bits of grass sticking to her PJs as she helps you get rid of yours, making your giggle once again.

"Would you and your partner like to join us for breakfast?"

Loki doesn't even lie to himself when he admits he is surprised that the lady of House Adachi actually considered that question before speaking it out loud.

"Of course," he smiles back, watching you pick Hiyori to help her get over the little cemented footstep before coming to stand near Loki. It is only when she is leading the way does he realise that he did not realise the 'partner' thing sooner.

"'Morning," you greet Loki with a smile. "Ohayo Gozaimas, Megumi-san," you greet Megumi with a bow, making her eyes light up.

"Ohayo, Kira-san," Megumi reciprocates, showing her perfect-teeth smile for the first time. "Come join us for breakfast!"

"Ah! There you are!"

The smile that had been hovering on Loki's lips vanishes as he blinks and looks ahead to watch Tony sauntering towards you and your company with Pepper and Rhodey.

"Adachi!" He announces. "Tony," Megumi greets back with a smile before hugging Rhodey and Pepper.

"Look at us," Tony points both his hands at himself as he addresses everyone, "ready to run the world in our PJs! Right, Hiyori?"

"Kira found me a ladybug, uncle Tony!" Hiyori responds with a jump as she takes your hand in hers, making you feel like a chosen one for this precious child.

"Wow!" Tony acknowledges with a gasp fit to make a child feel pride in sharing their latest adventure. "Come on, then. Let's eat before we catch some more bugs. Nice jacket by the way."

You look at the blue jacket Tony is pointing at, the one Loki wears, and that smile on your face gets the company of your furrowed brows to go with them on the road to confusion. "That's my jacket," you mutter a little too loud before looking up towards Loki, who- it seemed- is having the same revelation as you.

"Whose jacket?" Tony asks, his brows reaching the heavens for an answer from Loki, while Pepper and Rhodey drag him inside.

.

"I almost didn't recognise you because of your Pikachu PJs."

There is a ringing going down your entire body when you turn around and face the man who was bold enough to ask you to dance with him in front of a crowd of elites.

"Mr Russo," you try to clear your still sleepy throat, "h-hi."

"Please, call me Billy," he pleads with his dark eyes and a tender smile.

"Yeah, I thought for a change I'd try sleeping in these than those really comfortable gowns," you blurt out, your heart running a race, heating your skin wherever it could. Billy's laugh doesn't help.

"I'm..." you point to the table where Tony's family along with the Adachis and Loki sit. He gives the table one look before making way for you.

Loki watches you coming towards the table, a hint of worry followed by relief as you sit down next to him. He clearly doesn't appreciate what follows.

"I never in my dreams could have imagined to meet the business tycoon themselves," Billy declares as he sits down the corner next to you, making Tony's chest rise a little with pride and flattery. "Miss Potts, I am a fan," Billy continues, leaving Tony high and dry, and Loki- for once- happy to have witnessed this first hand.

"Aren't you the same Billy Russo who runs a private military corporation?" Pepper doesn't even acknowledge the flattery, getting straight to the man's business, making you laugh on the inside as you eat your sandwich- something that does not go unnoticed by Loki.

"Indeed, I am," he nods, "Anvil Corp has been my dream for quite some time."

"A private band of armed men who charge the government and the rich quite the amount to do their dirty work for them. I don't think inspiration is what you feel when you look at me, Russo."

That man only smiles. "Trust me, Miss Potts. You do. I have yet to see any other human make such a mark along with a huge dent in the images of those greedy corporations who exploit the ones in need. My company works in a similar manner, if not the same. We take from the rich and provide the ones in need."

Billy goes on about his work, never winning Pepper over, though she appreciates the effort he's putting in while Tony is busy showing Hiyori how to make a smiley face with her pancakes. You, on the other hand, are playing with the  _ dosa _ on your plate, making little twirly flowers around your finger from the crispy salted crepe while unconsciously trying to move your neck sideways and wincing when it aches.

"What's wrong?"

Loki's whisper makes you turn to face him. And much to your (positive) surprise, you haven't realised until now how close you two are sitting next to each other to have his scintillating eyes look right through you. It takes you more than a moment, really, to come back to your senses from that ocean harbouring a dark pit filled with countless mysteries right at the centre.

"Nothing," you finally find it in you to speak, tucking your hair behind your ear, trying to keep your trembling fingers busy. But you can sense his unsatisfied gaze from the corner of your eyes, forcing you to eat whatever's on your plate, having to eat without the hunger rather than ask him if he was feeling okay today.

"-but all was not unfruitful," you catch the last bit of Billy and Pepper's conversation. "I got to meet Kira."

If your insides could scream, the glass wall behind you would definitely be in ruins by now.The knowing stares from your hosts doesn't help you pulsating veins either.

"I'm getting some juice. Would anyone like some juice? No? Okay." Without so much as another word, you pick up your plate, dump the little bits left in the trash can and place it in the cart before taking a glass of orange juice and walking out of the club.

.

_ "Hey, you sure I can come over?" _

"Yeah, yeah."

_ "Sure your boss won't mind?" _

"He invited you to his house. I am pretty sure he won't mind."

_ "Okay, cool. Leave a spare key for me, will ya?" _

"Sure! See ya."

Placing your phone on the desk and grasping your thumping neck, you walk upstairs with Loki's dry cleaned suit for the night.

A light knock on the door and you twist the knob. "Sir? Your suit."

No answer.

You let the door open and hear the shower running, making it easier to walk inside without holding your breath. "I'm keeping your suit on the bed," you announce, making sure he knows you are in his room.

"Thanks," comes his reply as the bathroom door opens behind you, making you jump and turn and watch Loki enter the space in a towel wrapped around his waist. That's it. Nothing more.

You know it is rude to look at the bare surface still decorated with water while the vapours visibly rise from the hot skin. You know it is rude to try to read those old scars running across his chest. You know it is rude to stare further down just because you don't want to stare at the very visible sculpture of perfectly created God in front of you. But still, you do, before finding your scattered brain snorting in the vanilla and Japanese wild spices rising in the hot air around you.

You turn around, your neck and ears not being able to take the heat anymore.

"Before you go," Loki interrupts your hasty steps, "your assistant sent some of your mails on my address. Go through them and do whatever you want to do with them." That is all he says before taking his suit inside the bathroom, closing the door halfway and leaving the room to you.

Loki's laptop sits open on the bed. You reach for it and sit down on the soft mattress, keeping the device in your lap and facing away from the bathroom door.

_ It's Nina. _

That woman has been mailing everything to Loki's address instead of yours. The files on Anvil Corp, Eiichiro and Megumi. Even the latest reports that are supposed to be run through you before reaching Loki.  _ What has this woman been doing? _ To answer your question, you find few of the latest mails. You open the oldest of them and have to immediately find the back button and the will to rinse your memory of the nude picture of her that you just saw.

"Oh God," escapes you as you question your eyes. And that laptop.

Maybe it was someone else. Yes, it was definitely someone else.

You hesitate but open the mail above that, finding an apology for the last mail sent to your boss, addressed as 'it was meant for someone else.' You automatically give her the benefit of doubt until you see that mail addressed to Loki. Along with the rest.

_ Blimp! _

Another mail arrives. From Nina. You open it and see another picture where she has left nothing to the imagination, forcing your hands to use too much brute force to shut the lid.

"Anything import-"

"They were not for me," you declare hastily, getting up from where you sit when you turn around to face- a fully clothed- him. Loki doesn't understand.

"They're...they're private messages," you try to make him understand without wanting to look him in the eye, "...for you."

It doesn't take much for Loki to understand when he registers in the change in colour on your face and your legs continuously shifted your weight between them.

"Delete them."

That's it. That's all he says as he closes the top buttons of his shirt in front of the mirror.

You stand there partially dumbfounded at the authoritative energy he radiates.  _ How many times has he been sent nudes before? _ And you answer your own question as your mind mentally stretches its hands to point at the human magnet standing in front of you. The messages are deleted without much thought then.

"I would suggest that you have a word with her. If she's a good employee I won't see any reason why she shouldn't keep working," Loki assures, letting the silk of the black-tie slide across his collar, "of course, provided she does not make such errors in her judgment again."

The struggle is real. Loki's struggle with that tie. The soft fabric has been gliding much more than required whenever he wants to set the ends right. The smaller end has been sitting in his fingers waiting to be put to use till it starts bugging your patience.

"Here, let me," you take a step towards him, ignoring the rise in his single brow as you try to take the black fabric from his hands.

"I'm sure I can handle a tie on my own," he suggests.

"Yeah, well the event starts in ten minutes and with the amount of patience you have, it'll be a miracle if we reach in another hour."

You have no idea where this unknown flair of audacity has risen from inside you. Maybe it's the heat of embarrassment reaching your functioning brain- or whatever's left of it- or maybe it's the idea of just shutting him up for once. Maybe it's something else entirely. Loki just stands there watching your fingers gently shrugging his away and taking charge. The fabric is tugged lightly before the smaller side is made the centre of gravity and the ritual is started.

"What is it."

"What?"

"Something has been bothering you since morning, Kira."

"Whaat? No."

"..."

"..."

"Kira."

You tsk and wrap the fabric. "Alright. Fine. Yes, something's been bothering me. You. You've been bothering me since morning. No. Now you've invited this. So now you'll listen. I know you won't talk about it with me. But whatever happened yesterday isn't something you just ignore. I won't. They will be at the event today as well. If it were me, I wouldn't like to stand within twenty feet of their presence. You're not me. So I won't even suggest that."

You do not look up for a generous amount of time, fearing some verbal spat to start from those ferocious, inflicted green eyes. But when you do, you see a smile.

"Is that concern for me I hear?"

_ You sexy son of a bitch. _

That smirk nearly kills you by the lack of oxygen in your brain. But lucky for you, you don't use that organ much.

"That's the concern for my job you hear. If you don't take care of yourself, you'll deteriorate your health. And if you do that there's a good chance you'll die sooner. And that would leave me jobless. And I can't let go of a job that I've got after too much effort."

It kills your heart- in a good way- to hear him chuckle at your words. "You won't get rid of me that easily," he states. "Oh, I know," you acknowledge with a scrunched nose, tightening the knot a little too much. "But that doesn't mean I won't fight anyone who tries to."

Loki doesn't even have to work. The mental image of you trying to punch his brother in the face delights his insides beyond measure. "I would pay to see that happen," he chortles.

"Of course, you will," you confirm, "I'll take twelve per cent more than my current pay."

The chuckles and tease lighten the air surrounding the two of you.

This? This feels nice. Warmth engulfing the otherwise slowly-turning-cold world around you.

Eyes meet to acknowledge the humour and goodwill. But as they keep gazing at each other in tender tones of a harp being struck under the sea, a new emotion tries to resurface from those very waters, stilling all the torrents around you. It's soft. It's gentle. It's curious of its reflection in eyes watching it for it wants to know more than anything if something like itself can grow in the other.

"Hey, Kira! I'm home!"

Neither of you seems to notice Loki's hands wrapped around yours till Darcy's voice breaks you both out of the enchantment of your making. Throats are cleared, stray stands are tucked behind the ears, knots are checked and necks rubbed to dissipate the heat that seems to have risen- too much- in the last five minutes.

"That's-"

"Darcy. Yes, I told her she could stay here. The resort won't let her use Dr Foster's chalet till she arrives."

Loki nods and you make your way out of the room before turning back.

"Here," you take a leaf of medicine out of your pocket, "keep it."

Loki shifts his gaze between you and the medicine.

"It's an SOS. In case...you know," you mention, your hand still out. Loki is about to say something. "Please," you beg softly but with just the right about of weight for him to know you won't back down any time soon.

The medicine goes into his jacket pocket.

"Thank you."

"Hey, Kira! Is your wicked boss ho-ooooh! Hey Loki!"

"Darcy," Loki greets the familiar face that leans on the door frame and pulls you towards her to hide her from any incoming verbal and eye-daggers, "ruthless as always, I see."

"Yeah," she tilts her head to rest on your shoulder, "kinda a trademarked thing. Tsk."

.

If anyone knows how to throw a gala, it is Tony Stark. The open lounge of the club has been redone in the theme of the future; and unlike the usual bland black and white advertisement, his designers have used every colour in one way or another to make it look more Stark-worthy. The bar seems to attract quite a crowd, sending them with vibrant drinks to the open area for the exposition magnificently done for their eyes, mind and intellectual taste. Technology, fashion, food, lifestyle- nothing has been left out of the menu by the companies this year, making you groan on the inside at the probable amount of potential homework in front of you.

"Fantastic, right?"

You mind jumps at the voice but you freeze where you stand watching the solar-powered tablets and laptops with an astonishing twenty-four hours of battery life. You want to say something to Billy- who cleans nicely like it is a habit- but your mind is just stuck at the breakfast incident.

_ Hey, Loki looks fine too _ , your inner voice argues, _ finer, in fact. Like it was his birthright to be this effortlessly beautiful. _

If only you could eye roll at yourself.

"I'm sorry," he is already starting to talk, keeping his drink down next to yours, forcing your gut to cross it's metaphorical arms at him, "I didn't mean to put you in a tight spot in the morning. I swear."

"I-It's fine," you manage to speak without a hiss.

"I meant it in a respectful way, Kira. I truly did. It's hard to come by kind people in this dog-eats-dog world."

You nearly nod in agreement until you don't, furrowing your brows at him. "I can count all the good people I've met and I think I would fall short of fingers if I start," you debate, "I'm sure you just need to look for them."

Russo's eyes seem to be stuck on you and they only disappear when he brings forth this wide smile of his. "Wow! You are one lucky woman then."

You chuckle. "Yeah, I guess I am."

He takes a sip of his bourbon while you try to busy yourself in your glass of Mojito. His eyes are stuck on every moment your body makes- the shift of your weight from one leg to another, the swirl of your fingertips over the rim of the glass, the flurry of your eyes looking for someone in the crowd, the switching on and off of your phone screen.

"If I may be so bold," Billy addresses you, his eyes travelling from your fingers to your lips and then your eyes, "I have to say it must have taken a lot of courage to sign up as Mr Odinson's assistant."

Your fingers pause the delicate dance on the rim. "If sending my resume to Sun Corp is considered bold, then yes. Very much so."

Billy chuckles. "Right. I meant signing to play the right hand to the quite infamous man worldwide. His reputation does come with some grey and some...red."

The statement pricks you a little. "Says the man who was made to bathe in red."

The hanging jaw followed by a scoff delights you for taking the man by his metaphorical collar and showing him a mirror. "Touché," comes the reply. "You really are something else."

"I'm just an assistant who knows her worth."

"Would you like to go out for a coffee with me tomorrow? Not as Loki's assistant. As Kira."

Your eyes betray the rhythm of your heart and look at his. The soft sparkle in them along with the changed colour in Billy's cheeks is a site you never thought you would witness- for the cause being you. While your heart is trying to climb up to this new height that you never knew existed, your mind is digging into the rocky soul trying to find out where exactly did you fuck up to have someone as significant as Billy Russo ask you out.

"Mr Russo-"

"Okay, seriously though, you need to stop calling me that. It's like you're addressing my father."

You bite your lips to prevent the chuckle from coming out. "Okay...William," you mention, stressing his name.

The man raises his brows at the way you address him, wetting his lips with his tongue, looking at you- more likely at your lips- as if he would devour you whole if he could, striking something inside your gut.

"So...yes to the coffee?"

You breathe and bite your lower lip again.

"Take your time," he assures you, signalling a waiter carrying champagne glasses to come your way, "because I would love it if you came because you wanted to. I would like to spend my last day here with the best company I could possibly get in this lifetime."

Handing you a glass of the bubbling drink, he takes your hand and moves a step closer to you, his spiced up cologne flaring up your nostrils. The kiss on your hand sparks a dangerous flare inside you- for those dark eyes from whom no light escapes, do not leave yours.

A few feet apart stands Solaris- aka Nakia- watching the two of you as Billy reluctantly lets his lips part from your skin, parting away for her to see Loki's intense gaze searing through the man. The green in his eyes seventeen shades darker, the untouched drink in his hand being nursed a bit too harsh, the conversation Heimdall is trying to make with him falling on deaf ears. The daggers flying till now are stopped only when those smaragdines shift to find what lies in your eyes.

Questions- the need to answer the curiosity in those eyes glittering in the lights surrounding her.

Confusion- the reflection of the unknown on her face as she watched Billy walk away from her.

Overwhelming emotions- the conscious deep breath before the entire champagne is gulped down, leaving no room for sober logic.

Loki can see you twisting your ring in your finger, trying to wipe something off your forehead before you go still. He wants to walk up to you to make sure you're alright but Heimdall's next few words bring him out of a trance into the much more risqué reality.

.

It's more of escaping a twister to walk into a whirlpool when you are standing face to face with Thor Odinson in the gathering of thousands of business tycoons.

_ I never could trust my luck. _

"Mr Odinson," you blandly greet the blond before stepping to walk away.

"You work with my brother," Thor makes a statement rather than a question, making you stop and face him, look directly into his eyes to just get this over with tonight.

"I do. I'm his assistant."

"Do you know who he is?" The man is nearly towering over you, being poised with his voice but his stature clearly trying to dominate you.

"Owner of Sun Corp."

"I'm not talking about that and you know it, Miss..."

You don't answer, forcing him to huff and continue.

"You must be careful about who you are working with. Loki is not a man to be trusted this easily."

"Is there anything of relevance you wanted to talk to me about, Mr Odinson?"

Thor contains his surprise quite well.

"You think you have him all figured out, woman, but you'll only be burning your hands in the fire that blazes because you gave air to the embers."

You put down your empty glass on the table beside you before taking one patient breath. "The entire world seems to have an opinion about my boss, Mr Odinson. Especially since your family disowned him because of the incident all those years ago. And yet people work with him. Yet people who work  _ with  _ him seem to hold him in the highest regard, ready to do whatever he says. I could define it as some sort of cult but for that, my boss needs to have a following and not friends and colleagues. Or family. Unlike your father."

Thor stands there frozen for that moment, the rage inside him mixing with the absurdity of your guts to stand up to him and talk ill of his father, while you pick up your clutch and straighten your back.

"People change Mr Odinson. They make choices that sometimes others can't fathom. Those choices are not always out of ill intentions. They're often made out of the need to survive. Or worse- to not end your life out of self-loathing. It's just a shame that only those who have gone through something familiar invest more time to understand that."

Wishing him a good night, you walked away, leaving Thor, son of Odin, heir to the Conglomerate of Asgard, wondering about your words along with the sincerity in your eyes concealing a pain of their own.

.

The walk back to the chalet is a tedious one. You choose to get out of the club and down the path less travelled- mostly because you do not want people to see the outcome of the standoff you just had. But the regret of leaving your work is gnawing the dutiful soul on the inside.  _ I just need a breather _ , you try to sound convincing when you find yourself sniffling softly,  _ I'll be back soon _ .

The clack of your heels is the only sound in the barely lit path going through the gardens surrounding the lake, the little streets named after flowers. It helps a little when somewhere out there in the darkness an owl hoots to give you company through the starry night.

_ One, two, three _ ... you begin counting, easing your breaths, making them deeper. It helps a little. So does opening and closing your fists, letting the nails dig into your palms before letting them loose. Bit by bit the tension gathered in your shoulders eases. That is, until a foreign sound in the dark catches your senses.

Your flight response lights up, forcing you to grab on to your clutch tighter than humanly possible and increase your pace towards the chalet. But it goes in vain when you come at the crossroads of the streets not knowing whether to go down  _ Dahlia _ or to turn towards  _ Marigold _ .

"Girls like you shouldn't walk home alone."

The voice makes you jump where you stand, turning around to watch the face of a stranger come out and stand right in front of you under the sole lamp barely lighting the space.

You turn towards  _ Marigold _ only to find him obstructing your path again. "At least let me escort you home, darling," the stranger purrs right next to your ear, making you flinch and walk back into something hard colliding with your back while the shade on that filth of a man's face turns paler than before.

You do not want to look what- or who- stands behind you. Your body really does not want to undergo the rush from the night you were attacked in the street. You are just not prepared for anything like that anymore. But the whiff of a familiar cologne brings this unspoken comfort that takes you by the shoulder to turn around and watch the pair of familiar smaragdines boring into the soul of that man.

No words are exchanged. No cry comes out for help- or surrender. The man visibly sweats before tripping on his on foot and walking away, leaving you and Loki under the lamp post- you shaking and him incredibly still.

You turn towards Loki and watch as his eyes are still following the silhouette of that man walking away as quickly as possible. "I was...I was jus-"

Cold fingers are wrapping around your palm, striking your warm skin with goosebumps till they have made sure your fingers are secured in them.

"Our chalet's this way," Loki softly declares as he starts walking down  _ Dahlia _ , and you with him, right by his side.

You don't notice it till now how much you have calmed down, the rigidness in your body gone as you're letting him lead the way. Even though his hand is cold, it is making you feel all hues present in the spectrum of warmth.

Making you feel safe.

The amenity in this darkness is a long lost hug from that comforter that would guard you against the monsters of the night. And your insides are begging you to dissolve yourself in them.

And that when it hits you from all sides.

You like Loki.

That's it.

You like him. You are walking towards loving him. And if you're daring enough, you are walking towards the irrevocable feeling of doing everything in your power to protect him. If need be, even from himself. It is a bittersweet feeling- a blessed revelation and a dreadful epiphany. Something you want to look forward to but at the same time do not have the courage to face.

"The keys?"

Loki's voice breaks you out of your overwhelming trance to find yourself standing outside the chalet with your fingers still locked into his.

"Y-yes," you mutter before frantically looking for them in your clutch and opening the door.

"Oh," you are reminded of something as soon as Loki turns to walk upstairs, "Darcy is staying upstairs in the other room."

Loki looks at you with a hint of confusion. "Okay?" He continues to look at you for the declaration of that news till both of you can hear her moans along with encouraging cries of another woman from upstairs.

"Why don't you use that room?" You mention, pointing to the one downstairs that was supposed to be yours, "I'll get your stuff."

"What about you?"

"I'll...sleep on the couch. It's comf-"

"Nonsense, you're sleeping in there."

"Oh, no it's alright. You should take the be-"

"Kira, you have been popping your neck all day. Clearly, you need the bed more than m-"

"Alright fine. Both of us are sleeping on the bed! That's it!"

More than Loki, you astonish yourself at your own boldness. Loki sighing, uncomfortably shifting his weight on his legs before walking inside the room does not make the astoundment any better. You take a step before stopping- not really knowing whether to follow him in there or not- contemplating for a few seconds before leaving everything to the wind and walking in.

Loki changes in the room while you take the washroom, trying to kill time in there before you know it is okay to step out. It's a relief to see two comforters lying at the edge, allowing you to pull one up and get inside them before the embarrassment of having Loki see you in a tank top and shorts course through you.

You force yourself to focus at the soft orange light lighting up the garden outside your chalet while skipping through the painted glass screen. But that doesn't last much longer once you feel the bed dip behind you, letting your default reflexes bring the comforter closer to your chin.

Neither of you realises how the other is trying to lay as still as possible, keeping the breaths measured, ears sharp for any movement. It is torturous for both to pass even ten minutes like this in each other's presence.

"You didn't have to do that to Thor," Loki's voice breaks the unbearable silence, "defending me like that."

Silence.

"You do not know half the things I have done."

"I am sure neither does your brother."

Loki already has his mouth open to argue when your words actually hit him and stop him right there.

"And I wasn't trying to defend you," you conclude, raising more questions inside Loki.

_ What could you possibly have gone through to feel empathy for what the world sees me as- the adopted son who got infected by madness and tried to destroy his so-called father's empire? _

“Don’t overthink it. I had my reasons. They might not be big but they’re relevant to me.”

Thoughtful silence once again.

"Good night, Kira," he whispers from the other side, that question still lingering in his head.

You, on the other side, have typed 'Tomorrow. 12 pm. The coffee shop by the lakeside.' Your chest hurts when you press send, convincing yourself it is better this way, closing your phone and looking back up at the light coming through the window.

"Good night, sir."


	12. Truth Lies in the Eyes

It is not always that you wake in the morning with the feeling of having experienced a luxurious sleep in not the softest but clean-smelling sheets, not the most expensive but a snug mattress, sounds of birds chirping outside the window, a warm arm resting over your chest, the warmth of the comforter keeping the cold currents at bay while dust bunnies float in the sun rays blessing the room with the most delicate glo-

_ Now, wait a second. _

Loki tries to stir and open his eyes before pausing dead where he lays when he feels your arm rest over his chest while your head lies insufferably close to his own arm, clinging to it. Within the intoxication of sleep, he is reminded of the nights when he would cling to his mother as a child whenever there was a nightmare that prevented him from sleeping. That thought brings out a tender afterglow on his face when he takes the opportunity to wonder if you think him as your safe space- even if it's unconsciously so.

He watches your light breaths, your brows devoid of that unspoken stress you always seem to carry around with you. It's an upgrade for him to watch you sleep in a thunderstorm to waking up to you sleeping in the most peaceful morning. That heavy snoring that's building up reassures him that you are having a trouble-free sleep till a loud thud jerks you awake and forces Loki to pretend to still be sleeping.

"Kira! I'm headin' out. Jane's here!"

Your slumber-laden eyes try to find anything that can tell you what time of day it is and who called out your name before slamming the door so loud. But all you get is the surprise of finding yourself almost lying over Loki- your one arm resting on him while the other arm latches onto his, drool all over his bicep- thankfully covered by his t-shirt- where you lay with your mouth open.

Cursing yourself, you try to wipe away the wetness as discreetly as possible, slowly freeing your hand from under his arm, mouthing a sorry and getting up from the bed to tiptoe to the bathroom, shutting the door and cursing 'shit' loud enough for Loki to hear and smile with his eyes still closed.

.

"So, you  _ know _ she's out on a date?"

"Mm-hmm."

"With Billy Russo?"

"Hmm."

"And you are...?"

"...eating my brunch?"

Solaris thwacks Loki with the newspaper, making him give out a sarcastic 'ouch' without even twitching while she tries to burn him alive with her stare.

"How  _ thick _ can you be?" She snaps.

Loki wrinkles his brows at her before going back to his newspaper. "I don't know what you're talking about, Solaris," he simply states, relaxing into his chair.

"Do not 'I don't know what you're talking about me', Loki. I've seen the way you look at her. I'm just surprised someone as meticulous as you has to be shown that you have a thing for her." Solaris throws her napkin on the table and takes one good sip of her wine.

Loki's eyes go away from his paper to her. He sighs and folds the paper neatly before picking up his glass of wine. "What makes you think I don't know what I'm going through?"

Solaris can't help but cock a brow at him. She is contemplating her thoughts but everything is ending up in her hitting him with a newspaper again. "Then what the fuck are you doing sitting  _ here _ ?"

Loki takes in one measured sip of the juice. "Solaris, it's not for me to choose who she likes. I cannot decide for her."

This makes her tilt her head with a faint smile and narrowed eyes. "Really? And what assurance can you give me that you will be fine once she makes Russo her choice."

The juice is twirled a bit as those ocean eyes are fixated on them before contents are gulped down. "I've been fine till now, haven't I?"

Solaris chuckles. "Oh, Loki."

"What?" He is genuinely confused at the humour she's finding in this context.

"Why do you think I left Wakanda when I decided to be your ally?"

.

"I thought you changed your mind."

The glow on Billy's face melts you a little. It is heart-warming to see him light up when he sees you walk into the cafe that oddly seems to be deserted for a place that's housing thousands of people on the last day of the expo. Billy takes you to the table by the lake, drawing out the seat for you before settling down opposite you.

"Best seat in the house. With an equally amazing view. Though clearly not as beautiful as the one sitting in front of me," he declares, making you let out an uncomfortable smile.

A violin plays a sombre melody at a distance on the platform by the lake- you're guessing just for you. Waiters bring out entrées, setting them down the table and disappearing just as they came.  _ Not at all creepy. _

"I took a little liberty in deciding the menu. Really wanted you to try the best," he mentions before getting up to open the wine.

"Oh, no. I don't-I don't drink wine," you state quickly, not wanting him to waste something so seemingly expensive on you who didn't even know the first thing about them.

"Something else, then? Mojito? Caipiroska? A long Island?"

"I'm good. Thanks. Really."

Minutes pass as Billy pulls you in his conversation, making you giggle- and eventually laugh- as he narrates his past days and the horribly humourous decisions he made.

"Wow," you chortle, "I am surprised you are even alive right now, Russo!"

"Trust me, so am I," he chuckles.

You pick at your ravioli, the smile still plastered on your face while Billy is studying you intently.

"I really wish I had more time to get to know you, Kira. I've never seen someone sit through my stories as you did today," he giggles.

"Well, I'm sure we'll meet on another such expo or big event soon," you add with a smirk.

His head now rests on his fist, his dark eyes staring at you with some melancholic emotion till you ask what he is looking at.

"What do you think of me, Kira?"

You stop chewing to gulp down your food, having not really expected that question. "I think you're charming, Billy. You really know your way around people. And you certainly know how to treat a woman good. Which comes to me thanking you for lunch today. It was amazing but you didn't have to put so much effort into it. Though I'm guessing this is quite normal for you."

That's when you see him blush.

"I-It's not," he stutters, moving his hands through his hair, catching your eyes by the nervous movements. "This is the...erm...first time. For me."

"Oh." You don't have much to say to that.

"Well, if it helps, it's the first time for me too," you simply shrug.

"No," he exclaims.

"Yeah, no need to pretend."

"No, I am serious! How have you been single till now?" Billy is genuinely interested to know.

"Well, clearly I can't ever think of teaming up with Loki for a business," he states, making you furrow your brows and scoff, "he simply does not know what he's missing out on."

"Hey, I'm still is assistant!"

"My point exactly!"

"W-no! You idiot! That's not what I meant! Oh, my-I'm sorry for calling you an idiot."

"I appreciate the honesty, darling," he asserts before both of you burst into giggles.

"So..." Billy continues once the laughter dies down, "have you ever considered working anywhere else?"

"Hm?"

"Working with something else. I'm sure you had something in your mind before you ended up at Sun Corp."

You take a swig of your juice to avert your gaze. "Not really. No. I just had a few hobbies. But that's what they're. Hobbies."

"So, you like it there? At Sun Corp?" Now Billy is trying to avoid your gaze.

"Mm. It's g-"

"Would you like to come with me?"

The eye-lock is momentary but you know what he is trying to say. And you, on the other hand, sit there mouth agape, processing his words and all the possible scenarios inside your head.

"Billy...I-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt the lunch, Mr Russo," a familiar voice calls out from behind you. You turn around to watch Robert giving you his signature smile. He clearly has no idea what timing he has. "May I have a word with you, ma'am?"

You're scraping the legs of the chair before he has even finished his sentence. You excuse yourself and walk away, knowing Robert would never interfere with your personal time if it wasn't something very important.

"Everything okay?" You ask him with genuine concern. Robert doesn't stop walking. So, clearly neither can you. He takes out a folder from his jacket pocket and gestures you to have it.

"The Adachis are clear. They're an honest business. Showered with respect even from the Yakuza."

You open the file and look through the findings; which are as normal as a family with constant scrutiny and wealth can be.  "That's amazing. But why are you running by me? I'm sure you have a direct line with Loki."

Robert wets his lips and analyses the surroundings out of habit. "This is your project. I'm just contributing. My work is to dig up dirt and hand over the worms to the person who knows what to do with them."

You raise your brow at him. "...okay. Weird analogy but okay."

Robert's phone chimes and he takes it out to see the incoming message.

Call it a stroke of luck or misfortune, for you see the screen open to find a picture of the man- too familiar to go unnoticed- with the caption 'the job's done', right before Robert taps it close and returns his attention towards you.

"Why don't take the file and go over to the chalet? I'll meet Loki there in...five minutes?"

Robert nods and turns around to walk away, leaving you with a million questions inside your head.

"Everything alright, Kira?"

Billy's voice is too close to you, and if that's not enough, you feel his breath right on the hairs on your ears, forcing you to turn around and look him directly in those heavy pupils.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just have to go take care of something," you state as casually as you can.

"Is it necessary to go?"

You blink and open your mouth to speak but then your eyes get stuck to his. The crisp blackness of those eyes wanting to engulf you inside them and keep you here forever; wanting to play with you more, already hearing you call out his name.

And something hits you at that moment.

"Yes. It is... necessary to go," you hear yourself saying, "Goodbye Mr Russo."

.

"What about those two companies you were looking at earlier? Anvil Corp and-"

"Kira hit a dead end with those two. Though we could consider investing in-"

"Don't invest in Anvil Corp."

Your sudden announcement through the front door is a surprise for both Solaris and Loki who sit on the breakfast table discussing their potential market as well as investors.

"Kira," Solaris turns to you, "why do you think that? Russo has a gold star business."

You try to catch your breath all the while trying to stay poised. Your eyes catch the confusion in Loki's before going back to Solaris. "I don't trust that man. I wouldn't want you to trust any part of your hard-earned business with him."

The faint brakes in your voice are clear to Loki's ears. His instincts are broiling up, knowing something happened.

"The Adachis on the other hand-"

Your words are interrupted as Heimdall walks in and stops to stand by you.

"What." Loki isn't very happy to see him for he usually is the bearer of bad news.

"The Adachis want to talk business with you."

Loki, Solaris and you look at Heimdall as if they heard it wrong the first time. "Apparently Megumi loved something about you two. So she's willing to get into business with you...two."

"Him and Kira?" Solaris wants to be clear. Heimdall nods.

"Wow. No mention about me?" Solaris asks sarcastically, to which Heimdall simply shrugs.

Everyone looks at Loki and he simply shares a thoughtful look with them before taking in a lungful of breath, turning everyone to the metaphorical edges of their seats.

"Alright. Let's talk to the Adachis today and sign it," he declares, getting up and buttoning his jacket.

Everyone seems delighted with the idea. Everyone except you. Loki seems to notice it better than anyone. You seem happy but the joy does not seem to reach your eyes.

"What do you think?" Loki asks you once everyone's gone to pack up their stuff and the two of your remain to get your things in order.

"About what?" you ask him. You truly seem to be missing in the room.

"The business deal."

"Oh! I think it's great. I don't think there would be a better company to tie up with. Except the Stark Industries, of course."

"Kira I-"

"Yeah, I know you have your issues with Tony. I get it," you raise your hands in defeat.

Loki smiles and goes back to putting your jacket- the one he wore- into your bag, while you stand there with your back to him, contemplating your next few words all the while trying to fold your trousers.

"I have a question to ask."

Loki looks up from your luggage. "Shoot."

"Will you ever let me know before you make a decision that affects me in some way?"

Now he's confused.

"Like affects you and me in some way. Our work relationship...in some way."

Loki does not know what you're thinking, but all  _ he  _ can think about is this morning when he made the choice of letting you sleep over his arm while he enjoyed the unspoken comfort you brought him. Was that creepy of him?

"Of course."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Something inside you cracks.

"Thank you for being honest with me."

.

"Everything okay?"

The meeting with the Adachis where Tony and Pepper where present seems like a trance. Everything had gone smoothly. Now, you sat in the jet on your way back home.

_ Loki's home _ , you found yourself correcting your own thoughts.

"Yeah," you whisper, never turning to Loki, instead looking out the window at the orange and pink hues that dusk was painting on the clouds, "everything's fine."

"You have been quiet through the entire trip," Loki states, his hands busying themselves in the magazine in front of him in order to pull up a nonchalant pretence. He even noticed how you'd not touched your meal nor caught a shut-eye throughout the flight.

The captain announces over the speaker to fasten the seatbelts for the landing

"Why does that bother you so much?"

The sting in your voice reaches Heimdall and Robert in the back, who share a look with each other before turning towards an equally confused Loki.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Harrison Wardwell."

The name brings a torrent of realisation over the three faces, like washing away a mask of intimacy for you.

"I'm guessing by the looks on all of your faces, you know exactly what I'm talking about. What did you do with him? Got him demoted? Sacked? Or something worse?"

The plane tilts for the landing. What is worse than the fear of the height right now is the fact that your voice does not rise even once.

Neither of the men speaks.

"None of you have the right to avenge me. None of you. And you, Loki Odinson, have no right to make decisions for me. I hope you understand that by the time this plane lands."

The plane hits the tarmac and goes the length of the runway before coming to a halt- the runway journey seeming like an eternity for these men- when you're the first one to unfasten yourself from your seat and get up.

"Kira, listen to me," Loki nearly commands, taking your arm in his light grasp.

"What did you do with him?" Is all you ask him.

He cannot look away from your eyes because you are holding him there, forcing the truth out of him. And for all he knows, he's already lost you.

"He's been fired."

"And?"

"..."

"And!"

"He will be charged before the end of the day."

Your arm slips away from his grasp and he watches you walk away, not knowing what to do.

"Kira!"

His voice falls on deaf ears.

"Robert," he declares, sending the man down to escort you. Anger rages through his blood at the chutzpah you display by walking away from him.

_ How dare she?! _

You walk out the exit.

_ I am above her. _

Your strut shows no sign of doubt.

_ She is supposed to do as I say. She is supposed to live as I tell her to! _

You disappear from his view, leaving him standing there with Heimdall telling him to do the same.

_ Then why does it hurt? _

.

"I need to go to the office."

Robert looks in the rearview mirror at your face looking out the window. He is waiting for you to ask him or say something that would indicate how mad you are at him.

You do look at him finally. "I can take a cab if you don't feel like it."

Maybe not yet.

The car is driven to the office building devoid of conversation. You get out without any word about when you might come back. Robert gets out to escort you in but you refuse. He tries to reason with you but the request is just words in the wind as you walk inside the building.

The night has already fallen and the summer loo has turned into a full-blown chilly fall wind. Robert waits in the parking lot, pacing to and fro-not really bothered by the chill- looking at his watch and his surroundings.  _ You were not supposed to know. This was not supposed to go this way.  _ No matter what reason he comes up with, in no scenario are you content with the outcome till he realises it really was not their decision to make.

A tired sigh leaves his lips and his eyes close in a small prayer. The faintest sound from one direction catches his attention. He looks at that side of the parking lot but is disappointed that it's not you. It's no one really. The corner is dark, dimly lit by the lamps in the centre of the lot. Your reaction really has him on edge right now.

He takes in a lungful and starts to walk in the direction of the sound to see if there's anyone there. But the clack of your boots is easily recognised by him, forcing him to turn in your direction and escort you back to the vehicle.

"Kira," he calls out for you softly, watching your six- well, the entire three-sixty, really- while trying to get you to talk to him, "I beg you to please listen to me just this once."

"I think enough's been said and done, Robert," you spew back, never turning around or slowing down your pace.

"Kira, please. If you've ever considered me a well-wisher, a friend, you need to know it wasn't Loki's fault. He just wanted t-"

You do turn around. You turn around enough for Robert to see the faint crisp dust bunnies of the chilly night lined up right to face your chest and later your back in a faded red hue.

"Is that what you people do? Protect him fr-"

You turn around for him to not let you finish your words when he is looking at you with an expression you cannot place within the next few seconds while he grabs you in an unbreakable hold, forcing you down with him. You turn around to fall down when you hear something like a cracker going off in the silent night as Robert lands over you, his arms still securing you.

You can feel the gravel scrape your arm and leg. You can hear the sirens go off around you. You can feel the floodlights sting your blurred eyes. You can sense the heaviness upon you as you try to get up and move Robert to help him up.

But nothing in the world readies you for the wetness over your chest that comes from the red colouring Robert's shirt before gathering into a pool below the two of you.


	13. I Don't Want To Be Lonely

"Can you please change the music. It is burning my ears."

"No."

Loki turns to look at Heimdall with a simmering stare before letting his fingers change the track. The contemporary harps change to classics. While Loki seems satisfied with them, Heimdall rolls his eyes at it.

"Seriously? Could you not be any more of a boring personality?"

"Why? Watching me throughout the day isn't enough for you now?"

"Shut up, Loki."

"Don't even dare turn back that sloppy thing you call musi-"

The harps come back again.

"Is this why Odin sent you out of the country? He couldn't stand you doing whatever you wanted, right?"

Heimdall just sighs. The music is turned back to the classics. The next five minutes of the ride are spent in brooding silence that is diluted by the violin on the speakers.

"I don't even understand why you would consider sticking to me like a fly when you could've been guarding your golden boy," Loki murmurs.

Heimdall swerves through the traffic on the highway, looking at the raven-haired man from the corner of his eyes, wetting his lips, taking his time to answer that question. "Frigga made me promise to look after you."

Loki doesn't say it but the slow blink he does clearly shows all signs of internal shocks he is feeling right now.

"I have my allegiance to the queen way before I came under the wings of Odin. Or Thor. And I've never gone back on my word to her."

Silence.

"I'm sure you haven't. M-the queen knows well to use them wisely. Especially in front of the king."

"Alright. Okay. Stop being so passive-aggressive. Kira is just in being angry at us."

"I'm not-" Loki stops and sighs, letting his arm rest on his window's lower edge while he massages the bridge of his nose. "How did she even know?"

"You recruited her, Loki. She clearly can connect the dots even if it’s slower than you. You should've known it won't be long till she figured it out."

The lights from the small local shops and big hotels next to the highway are a blur to Loki's eyes. He tries to close them, hoping to remember the last time he saw you happy with him.

"I don't think she has it in her to avenge herself."

"She's not weak, Loki."

"She's too pure, Heimdall. She does not deserve that. No kid deserves that. And she does not deserve to be in this perilous world." The eyes aren't even trying to focus at the scenic dusk anymore. "She doesn't belong here," he whispers to himself.

Heimdall's hands grip on the steering a bit too hard. "She's stronger than she looks. I'm sure she can take care of herself. And when she can't...well, she has a lot of people lookin' out for her."

Loki smiles before furrowing his brows. "I think what you call looking out for is practically called being creepy, Heimdall."

Heimdall twists his jaw. "You better watch your mouth before I broadcast your live feed to the world."

"You'd be doing the world a favour."

The groan and chuckle are interrupted by Loki's phone ringing over the SUV's speaker with Robert's name flashing on the screen.

_ What did she do now _ , is all Loki can think when he swipes the green icon to take the call. "Robert."

"Loki-"

His name is but a broken sob escaping a set of aching lungs from the other end of the phone, pushing both Loki and Heimdall to the literal edge of their seats. The sobbing doesn't stop. Before Loki can even tell him, Heimdall is taking out the orbs from his pockets, picking up the one that glows vigorously and planting it in a slot right next to the wheel, calling out a screen over the dashboard to pin-point the location for him.

Loki's heart is beating fast, that usual raging ache being replaced by spasms of concern when Heimdall is putting the car in overspeed to reach where that little blimping yellow dot points on the screen.

.

The silence of the hospital is haunting to say the least. Even this early in the night just two people sit in the waiting area under the weak fluorescent lights- one of them flickering at nonperiodic intervals. The receptionist sits laid back with a mobile in their hand, playing a game. A family sits on the upper floor, the kids eating chips while the mother pats the smallest of the children to sleep in her lap. The other mother is preventing herself from nodding off to sleep, time and again removing the crease from the papers in her hands, sitting up whenever she sees a doctor walk by. The floor above that is empty. Most of the lights have been switched off and the janitor is cleaning the floors, making them ready for the crowd that will rush in first thing at the crack of dawn to consult the doctors. The topmost floor is the only one brightly lit. It too is fairly empty- no waiting patients or visiting crowds- but for the doctors and nurses going about. The corridors carry the smell of disinfectants. Two nurses are walking down, laughing and joking about something. The minimal sitting outside the ICU has just one figure sitting there, fingers gripping on to fingers, nails being dragged down the skin on the back of the hands to feel something other than that noise of the heart ripping out of the chest. Feet being unstable- tapped now then due to the restlessness. Eyes being wiped away time and again with the tissues one of the nurses were kind enough to hand out. Now even the little soft paper is crumpled to its last bits, wet and beyond recognition. The cold draft coming in through every open door and exit does not help the already shaken nerves, but it does keep them awake.

The door to the ICU opens and your trembling legs get up from the seat with a wobble, your bloodshot eyes looking behind the doctor before anxiously settling on her. She speaks. The words do not settle in the first time. Nor the second. It takes a couple of repeated loops to understand what she's saying. She's calling out your name really softly, asking you if you're okay. You simply nod. She directs you to the corridor and you watch Robert wheeled out to the same direction she's pointing. He's covered in bandages and respiratory-mask along with more than one IV drip. He's being taken somewhere else. You want to go too. Be with him. But your legs don't move. They can't. You do try taking a step, but it ends up hurting everything inside you.

_ Don't leave him _ , your inner voice says, pushing you to walk and stop again. This time your legs stop on seeing Heimdall and Loki standing at the end of the corridor, looking like they've seen a ghost. Or something worse.

One look into Loki's eyes and you can feel yourself wanting to rush towards him for comfort because your frail heart cannot take it anymore. But the mind wants to force every rational thought upon you, instead making you walk towards his figure that is also managing to close the distance between the two of you.

"Are you alright?"

The cracked heart is broken into smithereens at his concern. You just nod because speaking will take a toll on you, gesturing to the room where Robert's been taken.

Loki hasn't missed the red marring your blouse and pants, smearing your neck and hands. His relief in seeing you stand in one piece is diluting the shock he is feeling on speculating what all you have gone through these past two hours. He wants to straighten your hair and pull you in his embrace. He wants to let you know you're safe. But he doesn't know if he any longer has the authority to do so. And he would rather kill himself than cross another line that might end up hurting you.

"The doctor's allowed us to see him," Heimdall breaks the morbid trance between you two, forcing you to walk inside.

.

The beeps and hiss of the machines on the other side of the mirror fill the mute room where you and Loki sit- Heimdall stands, looking out the window, his hands in his pockets, the eyes sharp at any movement outside, his ears listening to the police officials trying to take your statement.

"You were facing the direction of the shooter and Robert was behind you," the officer named Gary breaks off, "but then you say Robert fell over you."

Gary's partner Sasha rolls her eyes.

"As I said," you try to keep your voice smooth, "Robert pushed me away, he tried to cover me and got...he got..."

Gary still isn't satisfied. "Again, was it a push or was it a cover?"

Loki tsks, rolling his eyes and looking at Gary with the will to choke him there and then. Sasha has seen that look way too many times for her partner.

"Gary," she begins, "she's in shock. I think we can give her the benefit of the doubt and carry on our investigation at the shooting point. Come on."

"But-"

"Gary...come on."

"Sasha, be a good officer for once and see this interrogation through. Shock or not, she's gotta recall the events and tell them for what they are. Otherwise, it all looks fabricated."

"Officer Gerald," Heimdall speaks from the window with the authority that the two uniforms are only used to in their office, "why don't we have a word outside?"

Heimdall turns and Sasha can see some wire inside Gary's system trip as his stance changes within seconds.

"Y-yeah. We were leaving anyways. To check out the uh that parking lot."

"Very well then."

Sasha would be lying if she says she isn't feeling something tingle between her legs on watching that man move the entire mood of the room with just his presence.

The officers make their exit and the silence tries to return again.

"I'll talk to Kol to amp up the security. You two should get some rest," Heimdall states before leaving the room.

"Come on," Loki gets up, "I'll drive you home."

"It's my fault."

You look up towards Loki. "He's here because of me." The last word breaks into broken chords.

Loki comes and sits down beside you. "Kira, it's not your fault. You did not know what was going to happen. Robert was there doing was he was supposed to do. And he clearly did his job well. Because you're here. Alive and breathing. If anyone is going to pay it'll be the person who did this to him. Who tried to-" he tries to keep his breath steady- "do this to you."

Loki can see the marks on the back of your fingers, redness painting your skin- a sign he's is quite familiar with.

"Are you okay?"

You bite your lips. pressing your hands against each other. "Russo asked me to come work with him."

Now, this wasn't something Loki was expecting to hear. 

He has to gulp down this information in order to keep his senses.

"Oh. So... you've thought about it?"

You turn your head to look at him, nearly scaring him with that look in your eyes followed by an offended scoff. "I'm not leaving you for him."

He tries to hide it but the positive swell in his chest brings an involuntary smile on his face.

"That man is shady."

"Why? Why do you think so?"

"The file Robert had made had the names of everyone working under Russo in Anvil Corp or for Anvil Corp. Donatella's name was in there."

Just when Loki thought that cliché of a man could not surprise him anymore.

"And him asking me to come away with him then clearly didn't sound like he was just doing it for personal interests."

Now Loki just wanted him dead.

"Miss Kira?" A nurse called out from the door.

"Yes?" You answered, both you and Loki wondering what it was about.

"Are you ready for the examination?"

You blink and sit there frozen for a few moments before nodding a confirmation and getting up, Loki mirroring you.

Both of you meet Heimdall in the waiting area on your way to the floor downstairs.

"Kol's all set up. Four men will be guarding Robert's room."

"Are they trustworthy, Heimdall? I don't want anything compromised for Robert."

Heimdall nods. "They're Robert's men. Believe me, they'll be doing more than we'd ask without us asking. For him."

"Make sure one of them brings him a hot cup of that Manali tea he likes. Along with croissants from The Irish Baker. That's a bakery cum cafe by the turn to Beverly Avenue."

Heimdall has to pause for a moment when he has to retake the moment in and realise the genuine concern in Loki's eyes.

"Yes, I'll make sure of it." He assures. "Come, I'll drive you home."

"No, you go ahead. Kira has her examination right now."

"Loki," you speak up, suddenly realising you've been calling your boss by his name, "I think you should go."

The change does not go unnoticed by the men either. But Heimdall rather not talk about it. Yet.

"No, I'm not leaving you h-"

"Kol can drive me home. Or David."

"She's right," Heimdall acknowledges, only earning Loki's judgmental glare, "for all we know this could be an attack on you. It's not like that hasn't happened before. Four men will be by Kira's side here. And you're coming home with me. Now."

"I'll be fine," you reassure your boss with a weak smile.

"Heimdall will wait here with you then."

"Will you just take him already?" You straightway talk to Heimdall, letting Loki take a very light but hurt gasp.

"Okay fine. I'm going," Loki agrees ultimately, "but you better get home soon."

And in that one soft moment when you're looking into those clouded green eyes, you want to take his face into your palms and assure him that you will. While Loki, at that very moment wants to take your face into his hands and beg you to let him stay and be there for you; for he doesn't want to let anything happen to you. He wants to make sure you're safe.

"I will. I promise."

Your words create an echo inside him. And he has to take that echo with him when he steps away from you to walk away and go home.

.

"So, what do you think?"

"My bet is on Andrews."

Heimdall brings the engine to life. Loki takes out his phone to dial Tez.

"That man never liked me anyway," Loki mutters ever so casually, "but I would not rule out a few other names."

"I'm tightening your security," Heimdall announces, "I hope that's enough for all the people who want you dead."

"Aw," Loki scrunches his nose a bit, "they'll only see me dead when I want to die, Heimdall. You should know that by now."

"Tez," Loki's attention is on the phone now, "I'm sure you've heard of the events by now. This is code sapphire. You know what needs to be taken care of, I presume?"

"Yes, sir," Tez confirms.

"What's code sapphire?" The lines on Heimdall's forehead are somehow working really well for Loki's amusement.

"There are days when I wish you don't know what I am doing by every literal second." Loki fastens his seatbelt. "This is one of those days Heimdall."

.

The plates are cold over your bare skin and the air conditioning is really not helping at all.

"Is this really necessary?" You ask whoever is standing outside the x-ray room. "I just fell on the ground. That's actually pretty usual for me."

No answer.

You sigh and are about to slouch over when a flash works its way throughout the room.

"Anything else?" You- out and dressed up- ask the nurse who's been instructed by the doctor to carry out certain standard check-ups.

"Just a few more minutes," the nurse answers before picking up a pen a board with a checklist.

You groan internally and try to find the energy to go through the interrogation again.

"When was your last meal?"

"Uhh...it was...I don't know the time exactly. It was lunch on another continent so my guess is seventeen hours. Give or take a few." You simply shrug.

The nurse eyes you with a cocked brow and you cannot help but feel a flare of judgment lingering in those eyes.

"How's your eyesight?"

"I use glasses," you point at the ones you're wearing a bit too obviously. The nurse just sighs.

"Are you sexually active?"

"No."

"... I'd suggest you don't lie on your medical report."

The nurse is still moving her pen on the board when she makes that blunt remark that really rubs you the wrong way.

"Excuse me?"

An eye roll later the nurse is watching with a resting bitch face.

"I mean, come on, girl. I saw the man who was with you tonight. You don't need to hide that you're some big hotshot's lady."

"Okay," you raise your finger to address the frustration growing inside you, "it is none of your business who I do or do not sleep with. All you need to worry about is the information you're being provided."

She looks at you before exhaling a 'whatever' and going back to her sheet.

"You don't have to cry just 'cause you're his mistress."

_ Oh my God! _

"Linda, I'd suggest you get out of the room before the patient sues you for harassment."

A sweet voice calls out from the door and you turn to watch another nurse standing there with her arms crossed across her chest, staring down at the other nurse.

"I was jus-"

"You should go," the blonde-haired nurse announces, bringing forward her hand to take charge, "I'll take care of the rest."

The former nurse clearly doesn't look happy but she lets go of the paperwork and walks out saying something snarky under her breath.

"I'm really sorry about that," the new one apologises, "the staff is usually really nice here. I'm Harleen."

"I'm Kira," you respond.

Harleen's presence somewhat lights up the room. And her smile only adds to the radiance she is emanating. She makes the effort to go through your chart and write what all reports are pending.

"We are all done here. Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"

You try to think of something that you might need to know. Your hand goes to your neck and the abnormality in touching it reminds you of something.

"Oh, I had a necklace I was wearing before I went in for the x-ray. I can't seem to find it. I kept it here on the table."

Harleen gestures you to wait and walks around the table to open a drawer and take out a little basket where you can see the pendant Tony had gifted you sitting in a silver loop.

"Thank you."

"No problem, Kira. Here," she takes out something from the drawer and hands it over to you, "take my card and call me if you are in need of any help."

Thanking her, you walk out of the room while closing the silver chain around your neck, nearly scared by Kol's uninformed greeting.

"Kol," you greet the man dressed in a black suit and smelling of a cologne that is surprisingly light to the senses.

"Ma'am," he greets back, so do the two men standing behind him, "this way, please."

You sense the presence of more of Kol's men behind you, curiosity getting the better of you and turning your neck around to watch two more men keeping a considerable distance. All of them are wearing an earpiece, keeping in touch by the second. Kol's auburn hair has been all moved back with a generous amount of gel, which reminds of something that Billy does.

The thought of him sends a shudder down your spine and you force your brain to think of something- anything- other than those dark, endless eyes.

The walk down the lift and towards the entrance is silent but it's made awkward by the foreign eyes looking at the men- and then decisively at you and your bloody clothes- wondering what is going on in the hospital at this time of the night. Your fluttering heartbeat does not help the meandering thoughts either but the chilly air fighting to touch your exposed skin as you step out does help dissipate the unwanted heat rising up inside you.

Before you can cover all the stairs to reach the footsteps of the building, another one of Robert's men is bringing Robert's SUV to a halt.

Kol steps in front to open the door for you before getting in from the other side. The rest of the security gets in another car save for one- who settles down in the passenger seat in your vehicle.

The cars are pulled out of the driveway and manoeuvred through small streets till they hit the road taking them to the highway. The dull yellow lights are the same shade as your heart right now, trying to grasp the reality of one of the closest person to you lying in the hospital. It is my fault, no matter how Loki sees it, you have convinced yourself.

"Robert will be fine, ma'am."

Kol seems to have read the tension on your face.  _ Am I that transparent? _

"We'll get the person who did this to him." He is making you a promise. He knows better than anyone- thanks to the years he's served- how it feels for the one who got away.

"Thanks, Kol." Your weak smile is the only gesture you can manage till you are looking back out the window at the lights passing you by. The smooth driving skills of whosoever is at the wheel are putting you to sleep. So, you close your eyes and try to see that which makes you feel safe. The darkness is filled with a lit-up corner where Loki stands smiling at you. "Come home, Kira," he says softly.

_ I'm coming home. _

Eyes closed, the rest of the body is sensing the ups and downs and the turns of the car.

Whenever we are asleep, dreaming of falling- be it from the sky, a bridge, a car, a cliff- we do not feel the effect of that fall till we are reaching the surface, about to hit it with maximum velocity, which then jerks us awake, or sometimes changes the scene to something entirely different. That is what happens to you when the cargo truck hits the SUV from the other side, sending the vehicle to topple on itself and roll over multiple times. The seatbelt keeps you in place throughout as you watch the glass shatter and fly everywhere around you. Your hands are up and everywhere, not being able to find anything to hold on to. All this while Kol has you covered, shielding you from stray glass and gravel- besides anything deadly that could possibly be flying your way at any given moment. Everything registers inside you only when the car- or what is left of it- comes to a stop. Upside down.

First, the breaths go shallow. Next, the body registers the uncomfortable position it is stuck in. The eyes take in the surroundings- a disgruntled Kol freeing himself to fall down on the roof of the car, glass falling down from your hair, a bloodied hand lying hanging from the driver's seat. When that hand comes in view, your eyes do not leave the trail till they see the body hanging upside down with a broken neck.

The already shallow breaths are now turning into hyperventilating streaks. Kol registers the shock you're feeling right now and tries to move towards you. "David," he calls for the man in the passenger seat, "cover us."

The man is already out of the vehicle, up on his legs, disappearing somewhere ahead of the barrels on fire in the middle of the highway.

"Kira," he nearly eats up his groans and pains and when he takes your arms in his, "shh, shh, I'm here. Breathe. Breathe. Breeeathe."

His patient soft voice is readily obeyed by your teary eyes. Just as the third breath is taken in a shot goes off somewhere in the night. This time it is not that easy to be mistaken for a cracker.

"Kol," your cry is barely a squeak.

Two more shots go off.

"Shh, shh, I'm gonna get you out of here. Look at me. Do as I say. Here, fix your hands on the roof. Come on. Yes. You got it. Sure? Okay, I'll undo the belt now. Ready? Three, two-"

You are laying down on the roof, trying to feel your legs while Kol's hands are helping you get up and out from your side of the window.

The shards prick your palms. But the gunshots behind you are a horror that is shutting down every other pain response in your body. The throbbing of your veins is only adding to the understated panic.

Getting up you look behind to watch Kol standing by the wrecked car. You take a faltering step towards him and stop dead as you watch him go down on his knees before his upper body hits the hard road beneath him.

You do not know whether it's the shock of watching your one way to safety go down in one mean swing or the figure clad in black camo behind him, standing with its hands to either side- one of them holding a gun. The dark goggles shield the face beneath. But none of the shades of black can hide the blood dripping from the heel of the palm that holds the gun.

The figure just stands there. Frozen.

You wait for it to make a move. It waits for you to take one wrong step.

It doesn't even look like it's breathing. You are gasping for breaths.

It tilts its head just enough for you to notice. You take a step back into the embrace of foreign arms keeping you in place as a hand tries to cover your screams before netted darkness is thrown over your eyes and your writhing body is dragged away from the remnants of point of intentional disaster.

The goggles come off to let the ignited remnants of tonight’s catastrophe be reflected in dark boundless eyes.


	14. Even The Devil Has A Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second last chapter of this fic

Ygritte has laid out the table for dinner. Loki's favourites wait for him. All things light. Soups and salads fit for a king. A bowl of glass noodles rests in the centre of the table. That one has been made specifically for Kira. It hasn't been often that she has told Ygritte what she prefers but when she did not stop complimenting the ramen Ygritte had made for her once, she made sure to keep something pan-Asian for her favourite kid on the table. To go with the food, fresh beer and iced tea in three flavours wait in glass jugs, making the woman proud of her arrangements. Content with the table, she goes to Loki and Kira's rooms to ready them before they arrive, turning on the geysers and lighting up a scented candle to help them ease them into sleep after the long journey. Of course, it wouldn't be easy ever since the incident with Robert, but she has to do everything in her power to make sure they rest well and have enough energy the next day to go to war with that cursed creature that did this to her fine boy.

With every last bit done and dusted in both rooms, she finally moves out to the hall to hear the same scratching noise echo through that she heard two hours ago. All she can do is sigh and walk towards the front door to find Fenrir whining and carving new patterns in the wood of the door.

"Fenrir! Stop ruining the door. They'll be here when they're here."

Fenrir outrightly ignores every word Ygritte says, carrying on with his mission of wood destruction.

"Do you really want your father to put you in time out?"

Now that seems to catch the wolf's ears as he puts his paws down, looks at the door, looks up at Ygritte, looks back at the door, scoffs and walks towards the back to go to the lounge, stops midway as his ears catch a moment, comes back in two huge steps and skids to a halt just as the lights from the SUV light up the walls in the entrance.

The door barely opens when Fenrir is lunging towards Loki, catching him in his own style of hug, licking him clean.

"Yes, yes! I missed you too. Now get off before I throw you out," Loki declares, hugging his wolf and petting him.

"Welcome back, Master Loki."

"Thank you, Ygritte."

Ygritte looks behind him to watch Heimdall standing and judging the wolf, who clearly isn't happy to see the  _ Watcher  _ either.

"Master Loki, where's Miss Kira?"

"She's coming home with Kol."

Ygritte smiles in acknowledgement, stepping aside to let the men in, looking at the night outside. The skies have gathered thunder clouds in a matter of minutes and the wind chimes around the estate are going off at every strong gust teasing them, alerting the grounds of the storm that is about to come. Even though she trusts what Loki says, her heart seems to be feeling a nauseating feeling, forcing her to close the door till about three inches are left, letting the soft lights from the driveway form a straight beam into the entrance hall. Doing that, she walks away to carry on with her work.

Heimdall notices this. When their ancestors had gone through the biblical famines in old history, a group of men had sought to find anything their families could live on. The women and children were left in protected shelters, where the women took to intricate- and impressive- measures to protect them and their children from the cold and the predators. But in order to let their men know they were alive and it was safe to enter the shelter, they would keep the entrance open with the fire on- the fire having to be fed after considerate intervals. And so began a tradition. Later on in the wars, the men and women would leave at least one door open when their partner was out and it was truly unknown if they would return. Heimdall can feel the same patience and anxiousness in Ygritte's actions. When he watches her leave, he turns on the porch light and walks away to his observatory.

.

Too loud.

Your heartbeat is too loud for you to make out anything that is going on around you.

_ Breathe. _

_ Breathe, Kira, breathe. _

Deep long breaths help a little, calming those thumping beats enough to make sense of the sounds around you. The sounds outside the walls where you've been kept sound thin. Heavy vehicles seem to hum around the huge hollow building. The walls and floor are cold and it smells like the outskirts of the city- the pungent smell of sulphur in the air too familiar to be breathed in this long; the only relief being the periodic wind forcing its way through whatever hole that you cannot see, bringing with it four seconds of freshness and the smell of rain.

_ Where the fuck am I? _

From what you can recall, after being literally clad in darkness, you were forced up into a vehicle and brought to the outskirts on quite the bumpy road. The henchmen surrounding you had been hard at work, ignoring your anxious muffled cries yet keeping you in place whenever you tried to struggle with the zip ties keeping your hands tied in front.

There had been too much commotion wherever the vehicle had stopped. Sounds of heavy metal being thrown on thick concrete, wooden crates being opened, cries of moving the 'packages' away in local languages. The black fabric was no help in letting you make out the figures under the orange lights walking around the premise. You, amongst all the noise, were forced by your arm inside a building, the door- or whatever ominous frame closes with a metallic clang- shut behind you.

So, here you are, after taking careful steps towards the wall in God-knows-what direction, sitting on the cold floor, your hands limp inside your lap, your body realising the tiredness after the rush, your brain going into a shutdown.

_ What did I do to deserve this? _ Your sore muscles and bleeding scratches ask you.

_ You fell for the wrong man _ , a voice inside your head whispers. You try not to ignore it but it's like a demon attached to your back whose presence is heavy even though it's invisible.

The solitary confinement does give you a minute to gather yourself, mentally.  _ How long have I gone missing? Someone ought to look for me, right? _

You feel your body slide down the wall a little more, the cold touch of the wall on your neck dissipating the hotness gathering there. And before you know it, the basic instincts take over, instantly putting you to sleep.

You don't know how long it's been when you jerk at the clang of the door opening- five minutes, ten, an hour, the concept of time is not even a question anymore- and the sounds of multiple footsteps proceeding towards you.

You think it's bad to not know who these people are that are approaching you while keeping you in complete darkness till the footsteps stop a few feet away and no amount of concentration can help you concur what exactly is going on in this situation. And the accelerated thumping of your veins does not help.

You do not notice when your knees came up and close to your chest to wrap you in an invisible protective shield against the strangers in the room. But just as that happens, a lone pair of footsteps walk towards you, their echo a prick inside your just woken up brain. A low grunt follows the touch of strong arms grasping onto yours and picking you up without much effort before nearly dragging you away from the corner to stop dead somewhere; not before you find yourself bumping into what seems like a table. The same set of hands that brought you here undo the complex clasp at the back to take away the black fabric from over your head to reveal the gentle hollow eyes of Billy Russo smiling at you three feet away.

.

"I owe you my sincerest apologies for the way over the top charades to get you here. Though I'm not really sure if you'd have come with me if I'd asked you to."

You rub the bruises on your wrists where the ties were a minute ago, flashing a judgmental look at Billy for the comment he makes.

"You  _ shot  _ Robert."

"Well, I wasn't planning to," Billy states with a simple shrug and tilts his head at you with the look of sympathy in his eyes that is inciting all the wrong emotions inside you.

"Oh, so, you wanted me dead." The sharpness of your voice seems to add weight to the betrayal you're feeling right now.

Billy narrows his eyes in contemplation. "No, not really. No. I just wanted to-" he takes one step closer to you, visibly surprised when you don't flinch even a bit- "let the fact graze past your boss that I could've taken your life if I wanted to. Really simple strategy. Don't blame me for Robert tryna' be a hero, sweetheart."

The disgust your belly feels at his addressal leaves a sour taste in your mouth. "His security is tighter than before. I really don't get how you plan on getting past that and for what reason. Just because he didn't a business deal with you, Russo?"

"Aw, we'd just started on the first name basis!" He exclaims, taking another step towards you- forcing you to move back and away from him and his deceiving face. "And come on! You're smarter than you show the world, Kira. You know how a sturdy castle can crumble with the right blow at the right spot. It just so happens that you are the right spot when it comes to Loki Odinson, the Messiah of the third world countries!"

The distance is closed again. You do not hesitate to step back. "I'm just his assis-"

"Enough." His voice is low but the tremble it sends through the hollow building makes you second guess that slight smear of courage inside your heart. "I'm tired of hearing it. How aren't you? Have you seen the way that orphan looks at you? Like someone looks at their precious pet. Admiring them, showcasing them to the world and feeling proud when others stand in awe of their cute little slave-"

"You're going too far-"

"Glaring at the people with the stare of most violent death to anyone who looks at their pet with an intention they deem inappropriate. I mean-" he steps towards you, forcing you into the wall at the back- "I know he's killed me at least ten times in his mind since I've met you."

The perfect white smile is ominous at best, chilling your insides. His dark eyes gazing you with a haunted lust add to the dread.

"He does not-" you graze away his fingers trying to play with your stray hair- "like me. If that's what you're implying."

"Mm-hmm," Billy hums, not at all fazed by your hands trying to keep his away from you, "then how do you explain him not signing the deal with me? Hmm? Last I heard he and Solaris were this close to closing it on my name. Why does. A man. With such a powerful sway. Let his assistant make decisions for him?"

"Wha-"

"I know it was you who stopped him from closing on Anvil Corp, Kira."

The words should not hit as hard as they do in your gut but the shade of malice swimming in Billy's eyes seems to take control, wanting to reduce you to nothing. "I know you were the one who swung the deal from the Adachis in your favour."

"I had nothing t-"

"You had everything to do with this, Kira!" He shouts, failing his hands as he does a frustrated three-sixty. "Everything!"

"You had to go and be all sweet to their daughter, be the nicest person on the planet with them. The bonus? You and Loki being all heart-eyes in each other's presence. Ugh!"

He comes back to put his arms on the wall around you, trapping you in without so much as a window for a thought to escape. "You ruined our entire plan."

You want to be diffused into the wall for it sounds better than feeling the microscopic jolts of uneasiness from his stare lingering over your skin and hot breaths trying to tease your existence into withering away.

"And to think I nearly started questioning my motives in seducing you." His thumb grazes your jaw. His fingers plant themselves on your neck before you feel the force in his hand mercilessly turning your face to look at him while he presses himself against you. "I nearly started to think of you, Kira. I started to dream what it would be like to take you home. To wonder what it would be like to tie your hands and bend you on my table, ripping off your clothes one by one and fucking you till I made you cry. Ohhh...to force my cock in your mouth till you licked my orgasm clean. You really did a number on me, Kira."

The restraints are crumbling to the last bits when you feel his erection grinding against you. That's it. You cannot take it anymore.

"I'd rather die than let you fuck me," you hiss through your teeth.

Billy's eyes go wide. His face blank. Laughter roars through the room followed by his hand slapping the wall.

"Oh you never cease to amaze me, do you?"

Billy bites his lips through the smile still lingering on them. One hand goes away from the wall to gesture at the two men clad in black camo to walk away. And they do. Leaving you alone with this scum.

"You'd rather die than fuck me, hmm?" He whispers into your ear, inhaling the scent of fear coming out from you before kissing your forehead tenderly.

Your fists try to drive his chest away but his hand takes your wrists in them, letting his perfectly manicured nails dig into your skin to remind you of the dormant pain still lingering in there. The other hand has found its way into your trousers, fingers entering your folds to watching you grit your teeth and feel your muscles clench in rebellion at his touch.

"Ah!" He whispers, "let's see how you call upon death to get you out of this."

It is a split-second decision through the pain to find your knee making an impact with his balls, bringing him down groaning and pushing him back as his grip loosens on you. "You are a psychopath! No wonder your own mother hates you so much," your lungs shout.

The mention of his mother breaks something inside him; like a vial of toxins crushed under pressure to let them mingle in with the rest of the solution.

Even as you try in vain to run towards the door, he is catching you by the waist to throw you at the table.

All you can see is red in his eyes when you get up. All you see is the face of a mad man before his fist makes an impact with the side of your face.

.

"Aaah! It's so good to be back home!"

"Tell me about it."

"Friday! Put on something soothing, please. And get the fire started."

The hall livens up with soft jazz music as Pepper cocks her brow at the crackle of a fire in her fireplace before turning to Tony.

"Wow," she mentions, wetting her lips, "for someone who hosted a freaking convention, you seem not tired at all."

"No,  _ you  _ hosted the convention," Tony asserts as he fills two glass with champagne, "I just popped by to say hi to all the people I invited."

"Right," Pepper nods smirks, taking her glass from Tony and waiting for him to settle down next to her. Tony scooches as close to her as possible before putting his arm around the headrest of the couch and clinking his glass with hers.

"To Miss Potts and her work in making this expo the most successful thing yet." Tony smiles with his eyes.

"Why thank you, Mr Stark," Pepper mentions before raising her glass a little, "to Stark Industries. For having the most generous man running the company with the happiest employees."

Pepper rests her head on Tony's arm, making him smile his softest smile. He lets his arm embrace her, his fingers making patterns on her sleeve.

"So, Miss Potts," Tony coos into Pepper's ears, "are you dead tired or do you have enough energy for an entertaining shower?"

Pepper bites her lips to restrain the giggle. "Oh, I don't know Mr Stark. Are you really up for a round or do you plan on passing out midway to the bathroom like last time?"

"Ooh! Cocky much! You do have the energy."

Pepper giggles, giving Tony a long kiss on his lips.

"How about you turn on your favourite playlist while I warm up the water for you, Miss Potts."

"I'd like that very much, Mr Stark."

Giving another peck on his cheek, Pepper gets up to go towards the music system, undoing her hair bun on the way while Tony collects the champagne glasses to get up and walk towards the bathroom. 

"Fri-"

The words leave Pepper midway as she watches the screen in front of her, her eyes squinting in the gesture of finding out what exactly she was seeing. Two seconds later the very same blue eyes are going wide with a low gasp escaping her lungs.

"Oh, my G-TONY!"

.

The hot pressured water eases the muscles in Loki's back, lightly scarring the already decorated skin. Everything except his head gets this torture. The heat is turned off to be followed by the cold current that numbs his skull before disappearing at the turn of the handle. Towel wrapped around his waist, Loki walks out to the ring of his phone on the bed, his heartbeat quickening at the thought of watching your name on the screen, only to be disappointed to find the exact opposite energy calling him.

Loki accepts the call and puts it on the speaker at the very same moment Heimdall opens the door to his room.

"Stark," Loki greets the man, making Heimdall pause midway, preventing him from speaking.

"Where is she?"

Loki's heard Tony enough time to let his ears know which emotion Tony is pouring at that moment. And the amount of poisonous rage bubbling on speakerphone has been heard only once before- a time neither of them talks about. The voice carries rage and frustration. Not to mention a hidden pain that would drown thousands at any moment if Loki does not answer it correctly. The question, by this time, can only meant to be directed towards you.  _ But how does Tony know about you so quickly? Has the news already been informed? _

"Kira's fine. She's on her way home from her examina-"

"She is NOT fine, Loki!"

"Tony she's f-"

"Her heart rates' high, Loki! Her vitals are worse and her blood pressure is all kinds of abnormal!"

The confusion hits before the surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"YOU SON OF A-"

Loki can hear Pepper's voice trying to calm Tony down to retain an ounce of common sense to talk to him in a language that makes sense.

"Loki," Tony comes back, this time one breath cooler, "Kira is not fine right now. I just got an alert about her being in an emergency. So, tell me where she is."

The restraint in his voice is loud and clear. Loud enough to tell anyone listening that he would come out of the speakerphone and strangle someone right this very moment.

"Her phone's off. I can't locate her."

Loki turns around to find Heimdall looking down at his golden crystal balls and phone in either hand, suddenly clicking a switch inside Loki.

"The pendant I gave her," Tony calls out from the phone, "it has a beacon. But it'll take me two minutes to activate it. You guys better hurry because her vitals are not looking good."

"I'm on it," Heimdall states before turning to Loki, "you stay here in case-Loki? Loki?!"

All sounds feel like one streak of white noise being drowned out by shallow breaths increasing with every passing moment. The legs are on the edge of giving way any second while the neck burns like a firepit from hell, sweating and steaming away the stray water on the skin.

"Ygritte!" Heimdall shouts out for the woman before coming back to Loki, "Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. You're okay. She'll be fine. Hey. Hey! Look at me! Look. At. Me. Kira will be fine. I'll bring her back. Okay?"

Loki, breathless on the floor by this moment nods halfway, pushing away Heimdall's hands from his arms, gesturing him to be out of the room.

"Loki..."

Tony calls out for the man- no poison this time.

This voice, Loki doesn't like.

"Stark," Loki's trying to breathe through his airless aching lungs, "Stark lis-listen-"

"I'm not going anywhere till you find yourself. Breathe before you speak. I can't hear you through your wheezing anyway."

Loki hates the voice that reminds of the father he did not have.

.

The handkerchief cleans up the blood sticking over the lean fingers in multiple strokes, having to make a little extra effort to get the fabric to wipe away the piece of skin caught under the nails; not to mention the dried blood resting in between the foreskin and those recently manicured pieces of french art. It really is a task. How did he ever make it through those old army days without caring for the perfection that was him is really surprising for Billy. The handkerchief is folded to bring the clean side over and wipe off the blood dripping from wounds made down his throat. A curse leaves his lips to having found his flawless skin marred by a lowely woman.

"The car is ready, sir."

Billy looks up at the soldier he has hired for a few green bucks, scoffing and smirking at him before throwing the handkerchief. "Clear the area. Leave that trash."

The soldier walks away along with five other men, leaving Billy to turn to the unconscious figure lying on the ground in its own blood.

He sits down next to it, takes out a little wildflower from his jacket pocket and puts it beside the hand that flinches a little at the closeness of the man.

"It’s a shame really. You choosing death, I mean. We really could’ve had it all if you wanted, Kira."

He tilts his head and sighs before giving a farewell smile.

"Because death was still going to knock on your door later."

Getting up with one long look, etching his artwork in his mind, he walks away with a giddy tune being whistled on his lips, leaving you on the edge of eternal unconsciousness, the violent pain waiting to tip you over any moment.


	15. NFWMB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are very few times when once I have a story in mind I have found the perfect soundtrack to go with it. I didn’t think I could have ever found any lyrics close to what I wanted to portray in this chapter but damn! Hozier outdid himself!!

Fenrir's chin rests on the edge of the bed on the footboard, still as a ghost in a silent moonless night. His eyes do not stir. His breaths are steady. His hind legs have settled with the decision of taking in the long shift while his front paws support the self-proclaimed weight on his shoulders of looking after your well-being as your comatose figure lies in your room over his favourite bed, surrounded by wires and pipes and beeping mechanic monsters this wolf does not understand, neither does he like them very much- because twice has his sharp ears caught your heart flutter and then both times heard those machine monsters beep at him like senseless maniacs till the strange men in white clothing have touched you (without your or his permission) to get the hysterical sounds to calm down but not stop.

It's better this way. He did not like having to worry about you from outside your room, looking in through the glass, trying to gnaw his way inside when he wasn't able to figure out if you are all right or not. He likes sitting by your feet, keeping an eye on your steady breaths, growling at unfamiliar footsteps- loud enough to make anyone from the help that isn't Ygritte stop and think if they should go against his wishes but not too loud to disturb you. He knows what he is doing. He has done it before. He will do it again if he has to.

He knows Loki sits right behind him on the teal coloured sofa, his face resting on his hands, his eyes frozen just like his wolf's, his body still like his son's. Both Heimdall and Ygritte cannot help but stare in invisible spectrums of wonderment at the father-son duo not leaving the side of the one thing they have attached themselves to in a matter of days, sitting there, watching every single breath you take, praying to- some entity that they believe would hear them- make you better, as soon as possible. Till then, they will do whatever is in their power to make you better. And often even our most seems nothing when someone we love more than ourselves suffers and we cannot take their pain even if we want to.

Ygritte brings in breakfast for Loki and Fenrir, requesting them both to have something. She smiles at them, kindly asking to have at least enough for their bodies to have the energy to sit there by your side. It's just some juice and milk that Loki and Fenrir agree to; that too only because they can feel their mental exhaustion depleting their will to sit there with eyes open. The liquid going inside them does the trick to bring that fleeting will back by its neck, satiating the worry in Ygritte' heart.

She herself carries bags under her eyes. Those sleep-deprived eyes have cried alone in the kitchen when she saw Heimdall bringing in your bloodied figure. The sight of you- the most prominent splash of innocence she has seen after a very long time- half-dead and unrecognisable under all that blood and open wounds, your arm dangling lifelessly whilst the Watcher carried you to your room (as doctors and nurses followed the procedures they were supposed to in such situations) almost made her heart break into two, violently. The image of your clothes ripped, your nails broken and your face bruised heavily just does not leave her mind till she finally breaks down in the one place she finds comfort.

She had made sure the sniffles were silent; that only hot tears flowed freely and lightened up her grieving heart. She had been really cautious and yet Loki found her- when he'd been forced out by the doctors in charge. She'd tried her best to compose herself but those forsaken tears just would not stop, making Loki slowly soothe her till he was hugging her to comfort her shaking form. "She'll be fine," he’d whispered, more for himself than for her, letting his words become an affirmation in the heavy air around them. "She'll be fine."

_She'll be fine._

The silence surrounding your room is unlawfully eerie, like the shadowy emptiness that rises like heavy smoke during a funeral. And neither of the people present in the room want to feel anything close to a funeral.

The vibration of Loki's phone breaks the horrid silence, that grim expression on his face turning into a splash of surprise before he picks up the call and presses the device to his ear.

"Robert?"

The name brings around the attention of all the ears present in the room save for yourself. Heimdall, Ygritte and Zair- your assistant who had been taking care of everything for you at the office front- shift their weight on hearing Robert's name.

_"Is she okay?"_

Loki nearly feels his heart being squeezed by a concoction of emotions for this man, taking him back to the day when he first found him. Or rather, he found Loki. _This son of a bitch is not going to die that soon._

"She's...out of danger. The doctor said she has two broken ribs, a broken arm, internal bleeding and concussion. No signs of...no signs of any sexual assault. Ahem..."

"Loki..."

Loki closes his eyes at that familiar tone. Robert knows. He knows. But he cannot think about it. Right now there is no place for rational thought inside him.

"The doctor here says I cannot move from the bed for about another day."

"...Robert."

"So, I won't be able to hold my promise to you right now."

.

"Remember that time when we had to take our men over to Vanaheim in the summer to prepare for Odin's arrival to bless the wedding of Thor's cousin?"

Heimdall looks over at Loki from where he sits. His eyes dart to some invisible void behind Loki for a few seconds till the strain in his brows is relieved. "During the time his grace was supposed to present the infamous sword to the couple as a wedding gift?"

Loki barely stops himself from rolling his eyes but the feeling isn't lost on Heimdall. "My error," the Watcher confesses, "your sword."

"Thank you," Loki stresses with just a hint of sarcasm.

"You swapped the sword for a stuffed adder, clearly giving the bride and groom something to reminisce about for the rest of their lives."

Loki presses his lips, trying to suppress the smile that is rising up at the crystal clear memory. "I never liked Fruth. But I never realised my plan would have exposed his ill intentions with a devastating flight response."

Heimdall chuckles lightly. "Yeah. Even though I was supposed to be standing by your father's side I was impressed by your out of the box strategies. And your will to smash his face when he spoke ill of your mother."

Loki smiles, his eyes turning to look at you, the bruise on the side of your face hurting his chest every time he sees it. "Would have been nice to know that when I needed to hear it," he mutters, bringing his eyes back to Heimdall before looking down at the ground.

Heimdall does not know how to respond to that. He wants to speak well for him but no words come out for his heart too knows where it lay all those times. All the times Loki's mischief had been a cause for trouble both inside and outside the home, Heimdall was by Thor's side, mute at the words that got harsher with time for his sibling. Even when his unusual ways had brought success in times of trouble against the crown, there had been no sentences of appreciation. Just a look of abrogation at any method Loki used.

"You made me give you my word at the end of that day."

Loki's words bring Heimdall out of the sour memories. "You made me promise to never use my strength against another person. Even though they spoke poison about the people I used to care about."

Heimdall's brows are trying to adjust to this old promise being taken out of the dusty chest of forgotten memories and placed in front of him to analyse. He can feel a foreign emotion emanating from Loki where he sits in that teal sofa, still as a rock.

"I remember vividly," Heimdall responds, waiting to see where Loki was taking him on this ride.

"I want you to take back your word, Heimdall."

There is a tilt in the gravity present in the room once the words have been spoken. Fenrir shifts where he sits, turning to look around at Loki. Heimdall too is watching him intently. Both of them can feel something really dark exuding from inside the man, burning and crackling inside those green eyes laden with a sinful weight. Something ominous brews inside him, fuelling a boundless rage, so intense that Fenrir feels a need to shuffle where he sits, not looking at his father in the eye. Heimdall too feels the need to question this darkness but is made to stop short when those green eyes land their dark gaze upon him.

"I _need_ you to take them back."

.

A farm rests on the outskirts of the city with a mansion mostly made of glass sitting in the middle of the land that has recently been made barren after the clearing of harvest from the fields all around. The path leading from the road to the gigantic house is lined up with black SUVs in a perfect caterpillar-like way to have them in and out in one smooth trail. Armed men dressed in black camo stand guard at the entrance of the gate, down the path to the door and inside the hall. The hall that welcomes its visitors has a skylight to let uninterrupted October sun warm up the white walls and white furniture all around. By the end of the hall where a spotless glass wall stands between the house and the little rocky hill it stands upon, Billy stands to look at the horizon of the city that is fogged up by its own relentless will to make money at the cost of everything else. He feels proud at the fact that the all-white suit he wears reflects more sun than that tallest building- which belongs to Sun Corp- he can see.

"So much for an empire to watch it crumble within seconds."

The smile on his lips just doesn't feel like fading away any time soon.

"You lookin' at this?" He gestures the guard standing closest to him, "those tallest buildings over there? They belong to the business that runs this country. Soon I will be running that place. And then this country."

He cannot help but chuckle at the thought of it.

_Sun Corp. Anvil Corp._

_If only that son of a bitch who mocked me could see me now,_ he thinks to himself. _Loki never had a chance. The ones with humans as their weakness never do._

A shuffle at the main door perks his ears, denting his jovial mood a bit. There seems to be some petty commotion outside that has had the audacity to reach him all the way.

"What is going on?" He asks the guard standing next to him.

"I don't know, sir."

Billy looks at him with the will to smack his face into this very glass in front of him.

"Then go out there and _look_ you cunt!"

The guard scuttles away scared, leaving Billy to contemplate how many more idiots like him did he have in his company.

A few seconds pass by whilst Billy revels in the concrete beauty in front of him before he feels a sudden change in the air, raising the hairs on his back with a subtle chill.

He turns around to watch Loki standing ten feet apart near a sofa, watching Billy with an unreadable gaze.

Billy cannot bring to admit to himself that he feels tiny specks of jolts go down his spine on watching Loki standing here after all of this. But then again, for what he's done to the man, it is all the more reason for him to be here looking for answers perhaps.

"Loki," Billy announces, his hands in his pant pockets still, his figure stoic as ever, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The smirk growing on Loki's face sends such dangerously mixed signals. _What is going on in this man's mind?_ Billy is internally frustrated within seconds of not being able to read him.

"It should be me asking you that, Mr Russo," Loki answers, running the hand that doesn't rest in his pocket over the expensive white fabric of that sofa that reflects the sun from a particular angle. "To what do I owe the pleasure of having you in my city?"

"Your city!" Billy cocks a brow at him before taking a step down the one stair and coming to the nearest sofa. "How awfully cheeky of you! I'm here on business."

"Oh," Loki's raised brows show genuine surprise before coming and sitting down on the sofa he has been observing, "I thought that was concluded last night."

Billy licks his lips at the surprising turn of events, a broad smile erupting at the thought of never having anyone be this blatantly forward with him. "Oh no, that was just the...uh...what do you call it...the linchpin needed to start with the overtake. Wasn't easy, I must admit."

Loki lets the luxurious armrest and back give him some relief, much against Billy's wishes. "What wasn't easy? Finding out that not everyone is moved by your charms?"

"Wasn't easy to hold down Kira. She is one hell of a biter."

Billy cannot help himself. He wants to see where this goes. He is loving every single moment of this. "Gave me quite the bruises, that little whore."

Loki sits there, not giving away anything to Billy, which entices the latter to reach further. "You should've seen how quickly she got wet on my fingers, Loki. Before either of us could tell, she was crying ou-"

"Five minutes."

Billy tilts his head and narrows his eyes. "Sorry?"

"Five minutes," Loki repeats, "I'll give you five and no more to leave the city, get on your jet and outside this continent. That is what I am offering you to walk away from all of this right now. One time offer. You won't be getting it again."

Laughter breaks out of Billy to echo through the naked walls around him. "Right. And what happens if I don't? Do I get dragged to hell? Does someone shoot me from outside the window? Or do you take me by my collar and try to threaten the shit outta me?"

Not a single nerve in Loki budges- not even when he looks down at his wristwatch- and the laughter dies down just as it came.

Billy feels an itch on his neck. "Will you kill me, Loki?"

Loki's smaragdines rise to face his dark ones. "I will hurt you enough that you'd wish you were dead, William. I promise you that."

The softness in his voice carries a soothing touch that hides the threat as an aftertaste, leaving undesirable convulsions in Billy's stomach, forcing him to stand and tower over Loki.

"What makes you think you can touch me and walk away, Odinson? I run a fucking army for business."

"And where is that army now?"

Billy feels the confusion hit his head for a split second before he notices not a single soul around them. The silence both inside and around the house is deafening, to say the least.

"You may run an army, Billy," Loki mentions as soothingly as the threat he just gave, getting up and removing his suit jacket, "but you clearly do not know what the army longs for the most apart from a little bit of money."

Billy is still trying to figure out where everyone went.

"Home and dignity," Loki continues, smoothing out the creases on his jacket before planting it on the headrest of the sofa. "Speaking of which, I have to say your mother is a darling."

Something inside Billy cracks and he whips his head towards Loki, the rage that was initially hidden now a full-blown volcano in his eyes.

"I'd suggest you stop right there-"

"Oh shush, little William," Loki cuts him short, removing his watch and throwing it on the sofa, "your five minutes are over."

The tie is loosened next and thrown next to the watch.

"It's time for you to pay for making the mistake of thinking you'd get away with this. Even your mother is looking forward to this, I can assure you."

Billy hisses, his eyes throwing daggers at Loki before his fingers are curling into a fist to find that jaw and smash it into pieces. "You son of a-"

The fist stops midway right where Loki's hand wants it to, bringing a halt to that blind rage for enough moment to make Billy realise the strength he never thought Loki could possibly have.

"You had your chance," Loki whispers close to his face, "you missed it."

.

_Heimdall knows Loki has had something to do with the silence in this location but he still cannot make out the how what and when of the situation; something that keeps bugging him even when his car stops in the driveway right at the footsteps of the doorway into the house._

_Take care of him._

 

_Take care of him._

That's the last thing he has said and then let silence reign over him all the way to The Hidden Gram. His arms hurt but the turn is made without so much as a squeak as the car comes to a halt at the door in the driveway. This time, instead of Fenrir, Loki sees Robert with an arm in a sling and a worried smile standing by the doorway.

 

_The crunch under his shoes brings Heimdall's attention to the fact that he has actually walked in through a broken window that has been shattered to such an extent that the glass pieces have gone all the way to the back. Every step he takes away from the entrance towards the house, some invisible and some glittering pieces crunch under his shoes making him curse out loud till he starts seeing them creating a trail on the white floor with smears of red._

 

Loki turns off the engine and gets out of a vehicle with a limp. Robert cannot help but raise his brows in light surprise at the blood and bruises that mark Loki's clothes and any exposed body part, while Loki cannot help but be amused to watch that man in a white shirt and khaki trousers, nothing like the man he is used to seeing.

"You were supposed to be in the hospital," Loki states with a hint of betrayal and disgust, trying to keep the pain as much hidden as possible.

"You were supposed to wait for me," Robert spews back.

"Wait for you to attack that scum with your sling?"

"Shut up. You look like a battered mess."

"I'm better than your puny ass," Loki nearly spits the words before rolling his eyes and deciding to walk inside only to smile when Robert cannot see him.

Robert does the same.

 

_The blood trail goes all the way to the other hall next to this one, with it a scene of pure chaos on the way- sofas turned upside down, wall hanging lying broken on the floor, vases smashed, their remnants being puddles with flowers and scattered pieces, lamps thrown across the room, wooden and paper partitions smashed to the point of no return. The trail goes till the three steps at the end of this hall where Heimdall can a figure writhing in pain trying to crawl up the steps._

 

The pain in his leg comes back every time he puts pressure on it. But Loki ignores it, having more important things on his mind than one fractured bone. In the back of his mind, he knows there is more than one, but that can be dealt with later.

Ygritte watches Loki limp his way to his room, letting a little gasp escape her lips on seeing the drops of blood he leaves behind, running away to get medical supplies and call the doctor, all before she gets her mop out to bring the floors back to their original beauty.

 

_Heimdall is careful when he starts walking towards the figure, who can clearly hear the footsteps behind him to stop the agonising efforts of crawling up the steps and turn around to face the Watcher._

_It should not be a shock to Heimdall to see this sight after all that went down but he admits he never thought Frigga's raven-haired boy had it in him to sabotage the face of his enemy beyond recognition. He cannot even recognise the man lying in front of him, blood being the only distinct feature over that face. Heimdall nearly starts feeling guilty for having thought Loki might not make it out alive._

_"Just kill me already."_

_A tired sigh leaves Heimdall and he comes down to sit beside Billy's figure, still seemingly towering over him. "I'm not here to kill you, Billy Russo. I'm here to take care of you."_

 

The blood is washed thoroughly by the hot water and the strain in aching muscles is relieved. Loki is careful with the cut on his lips but that doesn't stop him from desensitising all the wounds before drying himself and taking out a white cotton shirt and white trousers lying in the back of his closet. After much hisses and groans, while putting the clothes on, he is satisfied with the outcome in the mirror in front of him. With a lungful of breath, he walks out.

 

_"You have no idea what's coming for him. For all of you."_

_"For someone broken and near death you sure talk a lot."_

_"I'm gonna kill him for this."_

_Heimdall cannot help but rub his palms on his face._

_"You have no idea, do you?"_

_Billy is far from being sane in this hell that Loki has left him in to know what Heimdall is referring to._

_"The man who did this to you was not known for his physical prowess, Russo. He was more of a black sheep of the family. I don't know what happened in all those years he had disappeared but something clearly changed in him. I'm guessing you had the same thought too when you went after the one thing he had started to care about after a really long time. The only thing you didn't expect was him tearing you down while destroying your own empire at the same time."_

_Billy's eyes go wide, not knowing what to think through the humming ache. Heimdall bends down a little towards him, making him jolt a little._

_"Anvil Corp is in pieces, William Russo. Your assets have been liquidated and your name no longer carries the dignity it once did. All because you wanted power. All of this...because you chose the worst path you could. You just opened a can of worms that none of us was ready for, Billy. And now the world knows that Loki is not someone to be messed with."_

_Billy can feel the rage poisoning his blood, increasing the pain tenfold._

_Heimdall gets up and smoothens his jacket, looking down at the excuse of a man with no ounce of sympathy._

_"And neither is Kira."_

 

One hand resting on the door frame of the room, Loki has to take deep breaths before he can prepare himself to enter your room again. And still, the sight of you creates ripples in his chest that send the ache thumping wherever he feels hurt.

Fenrir watches Loki stand by the door, taking your visage in. That wolf has not budged from where Loki left him, neither has he touched any morsel left in his bowl.

The side of your bed on which you lay now has a recliner placed next to it, making Loki switch his gaze from the recliner to you and then back before limping his way to it, settling down in it while stifling his groans and crack of bones.

Once settled, he takes an easy breath and closes his eyes, letting his ears find the rhythm of your breaths under that respiratory mask. It takes him a while but he finds the cadence and soon enough is syncing himself to you.

A few moments more pass and Fenrir can see both you and Loki in a slumber-like trance. The wolf, which had been using your bed as his chin rest, suddenly raises his head when he sees Loki's hand move. The pale fingers- bruised red and green- travel over the bedsheet to find your hand, grazing those long fingers against yours before finding the strength in themselves to go around the wrist and find your palm to be embraced by his.

Fenrir smells the change in Loki's scent the moment he does this, like a dark stench giving way to something light and sweet.

He lays there for a few moments like this. His heart at peace. His mind at peace. He knows you are there next to him. He can feel you in his hand. That's it. That's all he wants right now. You. safe. That's all he wishes.

And he doesn't realise the gravity of the universe that is you when he feels your fingers curling back into his and pulling him closer to you till his eyes are getting blurry and washing away the fear of losing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of Volume One


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